


Hollywood

by whaticameherefor



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A little bit of nipple pinching, Actor! Ian, Actor! Mickey, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anal Sex, And then some ass eating, Barebacking, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Outdoor Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Roommates, Secret(ish) Relationship, Shameless Big Bang, Smut, Tabloids, The trifecta!, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaticameherefor/pseuds/whaticameherefor
Summary: Ian and Mickey have been best friends (and secretly in love with each other) since high school. After graduation, they head to opposite ends of the country to try to chase their dreams and put their past behind them. Years later, an opportunity brings Ian to Mickey’s doorstep, forcing them to deal with feelings that have always been simmering below the surface.How long can they handle such close proximity before it all comes to a head?Will the boys get their very own happy ending?Find out in… Hollywood.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 220
Kudos: 370





	1. Hollywood

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people! Welcome to my Big Bang. Got this idea last year (oof I'm such a slow writer lol) from those rumors/pics of Brandon Flynn and Richard Madden and had to put a little Gallavich spin on it, obvs. 
> 
> Nothing but love for my beta, @wideblueskies, who is awesome, and my amazing artist, @violet_jones because I'm in love with both things she did. (Check out the header on [Tumblr](https://whaticameherefor.tumblr.com/post/619748364814368768/hollywood-ian-and-mickey-have-been-best-friends), too!)
> 
> This is really just a little tropey, fun fic about two idiots in love. Hope you enjoy 💜
> 
> One asterisk marks the passage of time, three denotes POV change.

* * *

Ian was crouched down in the corner of his room in search of a particular item of clothing. He had the _perfect_ shirt in mind and he knew it was somewhere in this black hole of a closet, but that was packed to shit with all his brothers’ stuff and he couldn’t find a fucking thing in there. 

“What are you doing?” Debbie asked from behind him, leaning back against the posts of the bunk bed.

“Looking for a shirt, gotta say goodbye to Mickey.”

“He’s leaving already?”

“Yeah,” Ian answered sadly and let his mind wander before shaking himself out of it. “He’s gotta leave before his brother gets out in case he tells their dad, so we didn’t get the whole summer. Good enough, though.” He sighed, refocusing his mind on the task at hand: finding the shirt that he _knew_ Mickey liked. And he _knew_ that because of that _one time_ when Mickey got a little too drunk and high and grabbed at the collar of said shirt and told him, “This looks good on you, Gallagher.” And his fingers fuckin’ _lingered_ straightening out the collar. They did, he swears. It was one of the best moments of Ian’s life. 

Mickey fucked him up in the best type of ways. 

He thought maybe the shirt would magically give him the courage to tell Mickey how he felt. He couldn’t decide if it was the best timing or the worst — telling your best friend, your straight best friend, to boot, that you were in love with him, just as he was about to move to the other side of the country. There was a less than 1% chance it would go well for him - and Ian was almost certain it most likely would blow up in his face. And since Mickey was leaving, not saying anything would spare him the humiliation, along with the inevitable crushing letdown. 

“That sucks,” Debbie said sympathetically. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing, though?”

“Nothing, I just had this specific shirt in — yes! Found it!” He pulled out a green plaid button-up triumphantly, pulling it on as he stood up. It was a little wrinkled, so he tried smoothing the shirt out a bit. It would have to do. “See ya, Debs.”

Ian rushed down the hall and down the back staircase into the kitchen, determined not to get held up for too long. He just needed to make some toast and run. He grabbed the bread and shoved a slice in the toaster, then turned toward the fridge to grab some butter without acknowledging anyone else in the room. 

“Gonna stop to breathe there, kiddo?” Fiona asked from her spot at the breakfast bar where she was sipping coffee.

“Mickey’s leaving this morning, he’s packing his car now. Just grabbing breakfast and heading out.”

“Wow, he’s really moving to LA, huh? Good for him. He must be excited.”

“Yeah, it’s really great for him. I know he’ll make it, Mick’s amazing.”

Lip couldn’t help shaking his head at his little brother. He was so obvious, looking fuckin’ moony-eyed when he was talking about his best friend. “Gonna miss your straight boyfriend?”

“Fuck off,” Ian replied, giving Lip the finger for good measure. The toast popped up and he snatched it, spreading some butter on quickly before heading toward the door.

“Tell him good luck from us,” Fiona shouted after him.

“Not me,” Lip piped up as Ian slammed the door behind him. 

“Once again, fuck off,” he yelled back, voice muffled from the toast in his mouth before sprinting down the stairs and through the alley toward Mickey’s house before he lost his nerve.

***

Mickey was bent over the back of his old beater trying to rearrange all his shit to fit one last garbage bag of stuff, cursing up a storm. After successfully shoving it in with a triumphant grin, he slammed the trunk shut and turned around, nervously biting his lip as he scanned the area at the end of the street. He glanced at his watch and then back up at the spot he had just been staring at. Still no sign of Ian. Fuck. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here,” Mandy assured him as she descended the stairs on the front porch.

“Not fuckin’ worried,” he spat back, annoyed at being caught out. He dug out his pack of cigarettes to have something to do, lit one, and tried his best not to fidget as he waited. 

Mickey and Mandy had already said their goodbyes that morning, him gifting her some weed and weapons and her making him promise to answer his fucking phone when she called him.

Mandy was sad to see her brother go, but she was happy that Mickey was getting a shot to get out of the South Side. Mandy had a few more years to figure out what she wanted to do about getting out before Terry might even have the possibility of parole, so Mickey didn’t feel guilty leaving. He knew Mandy could take care of herself just fine as long as their asshole father wasn’t around. 

Mandy just rolled her eyes at Mickey’s feigned abrasiveness. “You’ve been connected at the hip since summer started, there’s no way he’s gonna miss saying goodbye, dipshit.”

Just as he was about to protest that he and Ian weren’t fucking joined at the hip, he caught sight of a figure rounding the corner at breakneck speed. Mickey tried to suppress the smile that spread on his face as Ian spotted him and deliberately slowed down, failing to hide his eagerness. Mickey absolutely didn’t sigh in relief as Ian approached.

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Mandy teased as she pulled Ian in for a quick hug.

“Like I give a shit,” Mickey said nonchalantly, although he wasn’t sure who exactly he was trying to kid.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian replied, clearly not buying it. “I’m gonna miss you too, Mick.”

And fuck Ian Gallagher because he was so damn sincere when he said it, Mickey couldn’t help but melt a little bit inside. “Could you be more gay, man?”

“Probably,” he grinned and laughed at Mickey’s affronted look. “Come on,” Ian pressed, stepping a little closer to Mickey. “Admit it. You’re gonna miss me, too.”

“Whatever,” he relented, inching away. Being that close to Ian was never a good thing. Well, in reality, that wasn’t strictly true, which of course brought it full circle back to _not actually being a good thing_. He took one last drag of his cigarette before throwing the burning butt into the street. “Maybe I’ll miss you too, I guess.”

The smile that that small sentiment elicited on Ian’s face made Mickey’s knees weak and it took all his self-control to stay upright. Stupid fucking freckly ginger asshole always made Mickey feel like his insides were on fire. The worst part was that Ian had no clue of the effect he had on Mickey so he constantly did things that made Mickey fall even more in love with him. He brought his knuckle up to rub at his nose self-consciously.

He hated that he was lying to Ian. He had already hidden this secret — two secrets, really — from his best friend for too long. Now that he was getting the hell outta dodge, he thought that maybe if he fessed up and everything did end up falling apart, at least he’d have thousands of miles between them. 

_Don’t be a pussy_. _Just tell him you’re gay and that you love him._

“Maybe now you actually stand a chance getting the lead once in a while now that I’m gone.”

“Fuck you,” Ian laughed in reply. “I’ve been the lead in all the musicals the past two years, dick.”

“That’s ‘cause I leave the singing and dancing to you, twinkle toes.”

“Humble _and_ gracious.”

“That’s what they tell me.” Mickey looked toward his sister pointedly and she nodded before inconspicuously making her way to the fence to give them privacy. 

_Tell him. Just do it. Just fuckin’ say it._

He looked at Ian’s beautiful, earnest face. Mickey let himself take his time, memorizing every last detail because he didn’t know the next time he’d be able to set eyes on it again.

“Listen, uh, there’s something that I wanted to tell you before I go,” he said. The next words were right there on the tip of his tongue — _I’m gay and I love you_. But he couldn't force them out. Mickey hated himself in that moment, but he just couldn’t do it. He wanted to tell Ian the truth, he’d wanted to for a while now, but Ian was too important to lose.

Just because Ian was gay didn’t mean he would be into Mickey too, didn’t make the prospect of telling Ian how he felt any more appealing. Ian probably wouldn’t feel the same way anyway, this wasn’t a fucking fairy tale — there was no happy ending to be found in this story. It made him sick to see Ian gallivant around with those older douchebags while he pined like a bitch from afar. But if those were the kind of guys Ian liked, well...then Mickey definitely wasn’t Ian’s type. 

Now that Terry was no longer a black cloud looming over him, Mickey could have told Ian that he was gay, at least tell him some of the truth. But he’d been keeping that fact from Ian for so long, _too_ long. He was terrified Ian would hate him for lying to him all these years and ruining their friendship would destroy Mickey. He knew he’d be missing home. Missing Ian. But the prospect of being cut off from the only thing he had ever loved with all the hard work he had ahead of him scared Mickey. 

So he swallowed it all down and instead he said, “Next year when you graduate, think about coming out to LA. It wouldn’t suck to have a friend there.” It was weak, but it was the best he could do.

A soft smile bloomed on Ian’s lips before his face took on this determined sort of look but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Yeah, definitely. If you don’t think you’ll get sick of me.”

“I’m always sick of you,” Mickey teased, restoring Ian’s grin. An easy joke, one they’d been making for years.

“Liar, already said you’d miss me. Can’t take it back.”

Mickey rolled his eyes as he shook his head and brought Ian in for a goodbye hug. 

Ian closed his eyes and breathed Mickey in as they embraced. “Good luck out there, Mick. I believe in you.”

Mickey pulled back and shifted away from Ian, trying to hide a dopey smile and the moisture that had gathered in his eyes. Sniffing, he punched Ian’s shoulder lightly and said, “Alright, alright, enough of that sappy bullshit.” Mickey looked down at his watch again and sighed. 

“Gotta go?” Ian asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yeah, fuckin’ long ass drive aheada me.”

“Yeah.” A moment passed. The silence felt heavy, both weighed down by emotions too strong to ignore but too volatile to bring to light. Finally, Ian took a deep breath and broke the quiet. “Bye, Mick. Drive safe, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mickey mustered what little courage he had and gathered Ian’s lapel in his hand, fussing with it for a moment before gently tapping Ian’s cheek with his palm. “Later, Ian.”

Mickey started walking backward away from him and finally turned as he made his way toward the driver’s side of the car. He hugged Mandy quickly and glanced back at Ian one more time before he got into the old hunk of junk he sincerely hoped would make the 2000-odd mile journey, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb.

***

Ian didn’t take his eyes off the clunker until it turned a corner and left his sight, kicking himself for chickening out. Stupid shirt, didn’t help at all.

Ian and Mandy drifted toward each other and Ian slipped his arm around her shoulders as she leaned in, taking comfort in his presence.

“Gonna miss that dickhead,” Mandy said finally.

“Yeah,” Ian agreed. “Me too.”

*

And so it goes. 

Mickey had moved away and Ian had kept his feelings to himself. He did his best to take his mind off of his best friend out in Hollywood trying to make it big. He concentrated on acting and school — got the lead in the musical _and_ the play that year. He tried moving on and to the casual observer, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Ian. He was used to pretending, after all. 

It had been hard getting used to life with a Mickey-shaped hole in it, but as the year went on it started to heal itself a little. The hole never went away, but soon enough he realized, selfishly, that he felt better without the burden.

He loved being in love with Mickey, it was an amazing feeling to be in love with your best friend. But it was also the worst pain imaginable knowing nothing would ever happen between the two of them.

It hurt, to be so close to Mickey but so far away from what he wanted more than anything in the world. 

So, when he was considering his post-graduation plans, deciding between New York City or Los Angeles, he ended up choosing New York. There were so many things drawing him west, the biggest being Mickey, but ironically, that same aspect was also the biggest pull of New York. 

They’d kept in touch during the year, so he still got a piece of Mickey, but being far away friends was safer. Having Mickey in his life was all he wanted, but it was a lot easier if he didn’t have to face the fact that he’d never have _everything_ he wanted with his best friend.

And so off Ian went to New York. Putting an entire continent between him and Mickey. He broke onto the theater scene with small parts and after proving himself, started landing leading roles. As fate would have it, he was “discovered” by his agent one night and made the leap to the small screen, becoming a Netflix favorite, starring in one original after the next. He was happy and building a successful career doing what he loved.

He told himself it was for the best, convinced himself he’d made the right decision. But as time went on, it got harder to deny the truth: that no matter what he did or wherever he went, he’d always, always be in love with his best friend. 

***

_A few years later…_

Mickey stepped out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel, steam billowing out as a result of his long, leisurely shower when his relaxed mood was instantly disrupted by his phone ringing. He cracked his neck as he walked over to his dresser, resolutely ignoring the incessant racket and checked the caller ID when he reached where his phone was charging. Fuckin’ Mandy. Of course. He continued to ignore the call and sighed gratefully when the noise finally stopped. 

As he was looking through his drawer for sweats and a t-shirt to wear the phone started ringing _fucking again_ and Mickey was regretting ever letting Mandy set her own annoying ass ringtone. He decided to bite the bullet and answer now because he knew his hell-hound of a sister wouldn’t stop calling until he picked up.

“What do you want?”

“Mickey! Why doesn’t your pasty ass ever answer the damn phone?”

“Bitch, you’re just as pale as I am, who the fuck you calling pasty?”

“Just shut up and look at the link I texted you.” 

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“It’s about Ian, you dick. Just do it!”

Huffing in annoyance, because Mandy just said the magic word, he put the phone on speaker and navigated to his message app and the thread with his sister. The link was from some trashy gossip website that was always prying into the lives of celebrities. He clicked on it, silently hating himself for giving those dicks a click.

_Split Alert!_

_Soulful English singer James Moore and teen TV dynamo Ian Gallagher have called it quits after nine months of courtship. Moore is set to embark on his worldwide tour next month and Gallagher has landed yet another Netflix limited series also set to start filming next month. Sources close to the pair said the split was amicable but it seems that for these two, absence_ wouldn’t _have made the heart grow fonder._

“Are you reading it?” Mandy demanded.

“Jesus Christ, yes, gimme a fuckin’ minute.” As he read the blurb, Mickey bit his lip so hard the skin started to rip off and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. “Did you know he broke up with James?”

“I just talked to the fucker last week and he didn’t say shit,” Mandy responded hotly. “Did he say anything to you?”

“We don’t really talk about that shit.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass if he knew he was gonna dump that douche and didn’t tell me.”

“Maybe James broke up with him?” Mickey offered, playing devil’s advocate just to have something to distract himself from the fact that Ian was single again. He had gotten snippets here and there from Mandy and even Ian himself, but tried his best to avoid hearing about the guys Ian dated. He’d get this churning in his gut whenever he had to listen to stories of one dick after another. But it was his own fault he felt the way he did, and he knew there was nothing he could, well _would_ , do to change that. 

“Please. That dude was lucky as fuck to be with Ian.”

“The guy’s a world-famous singer, Mandy.” 

“Yeah, but he’s a dick. Been telling Ian to dump his ass for months.”

“Really?”

“Ugh, yes. James always picked fights with him over the stupidest shit. Knew exactly what to say to make Ian feel like garbage. Good riddance.”

“How about you actually check with Ian if it’s true? Who knows if that fuckin’ site is even right.”

“I can’t, I’m walking into work right now. You do it and let me know, okay? I gotta go. Later, Mick.”

He cursed as Mandy hung up without letting him get a word in edgewise. Fuck, talking to Ian about his love life was the last thing Mickey wanted to do. But he was curious as hell and he’d never hear the end of it from Mandy if he didn’t. 

He took his time getting dressed before grabbing his phone and walking out to his living room. He sat down cross-legged on the couch, trying to delay the inevitable.

He was never sure of Ian’s work schedule, if he was on a project or not, and he didn’t want to interrupt, so he decided a text was most appropriate. 

**Mickey:** Hey man, there’s a story going round about you and James. Know people make shit up tho so just a heads up

Mickey reread the message about five times before sending it and then another five once he did. It was fine. Cool, casual. He was satisfied with the text but before he could put his phone down it started ringing in his hands. Mickey didn’t even fight the grin the name on the caller ID sparked.

“Mickey Milkovich you gossip hound. I told you to lay off the tabloids,” Ian quipped before Mickey could say a word.

“Fuck off, I’m on a mission for Mandy. She’s pissed if it’s true, by the way. Said she just talked to you.”

Ian groaned in response. “I didn’t know I was gonna do it when I talked to her. Been wanting to for a while, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. We’re both gonna be off doin’ different shit for a while anyway, no use wasting any more time, ya know?”

“So, it’s true?” Mickey’s heart rate picked up. He didn’t know why he was happy about the news. It was a dick move to celebrate your friend’s failed relationship, but there he was.

“Yeah, been back in Chicago for a few days, staying with Lip for a while.”

“How’s Phillip doing?” Mickey asked sarcastically. 

Ian laughed, seeing right through Mickey. “Like you give a shit. But he’s an asshole, as usual.”

“I expect nothing less.” Mickey grinned, happy to fall back into an easy banter like they always did. “Said something about a new show. That true, too?”

“Yeah,” Ian answered and Mickey could hear the enthusiasm in his voice. “I’m really excited about this one.” Silence filled the line and just as Mickey was about to ask him what it was about Ian blurted out, “It’s actually shooting in LA. I was gonna call you soon anyway to see if you knew of any places doing a short-term lease for a couple of months.”

Mickey straightened his back and sucked in a breath, hoping it wasn’t audible over the line. “You’re gonna be in LA?”

“Yeah.” 

“For a couple months?”

“Yeah…”

Ian sounded nervous when he answered. Why did Ian sound nervous? Mickey was the one that should be nervous. This would be the first time he and Ian would be in the same place for more than just a visit in years, so he didn’t know what the fuck it’d be like. 

He had vowed to never tell Ian how he really felt, certain that all he needed was time and distance to get over Ian. So he had spent the past few years concentrating on work and he was happy to say that while his go-getter attitude paid off for parts, it wasn’t exactly a winning strategy when it came to squashing his desires. 

Every time over the years that he thought of telling Ian he was gay he would lose his nerve. Special events back in Chicago or the occasional trips to New York City for Ian’s debuts never seemed like the right time to do it. It shouldn’t have been a big deal but the longer Mickey kept it from Ian, the bigger it felt.

An idea sprang to mind unbidden. He shouldn’t. It would be a colossally bad idea. The worst. Never been a worse idea than the one Mickey couldn’t get out of his head.

“You should stay with me.”

Mickey was a fucking idiot.

***

“What?” Ian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He must have heard wrong.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Stay with me, man. I’ve got the spare room. And I wouldn’t charge ya too much,” he added on teasingly.

“Sure I wouldn’t get in the way?” Ian asked. “I don’t wanna put you out or anything.”

“‘Course you would, but you should still stay here. It’d be fun. Like...like old times.”

Yeah, that’s exactly what Ian was afraid of. He should say no. Not only was this exactly the kind of situation he’d been trying to avoid for the past few years, but it’d be even worse. Living together? Roommates? Sharing the same tight quarters? It’d be a dumbass fuckin’ move to do it. He’d just be torturing himself again. And yet...

“Fuck it, I’m in.”

They hashed out the details and even though they were talking about the most mundane shit, Ian couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so hard. Probably the last time he’d talked to Mickey. He couldn’t seem to shake the happiness he was feeling after they hung up and knew he was caught when he saw Lip walk into the room. He wouldn’t be able to hide his good mood from his brother.

“Who was that?” Lip asked, knowing full well who it was on the other line. Ian only smiled like that when he talked to one special person.

“Uhhh, Mickey,” Ian answered, feigning nonchalance. “Heard about the James thing. Told me I could stay with him at his place for the season, which is great. One less thing to worry about, right?”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Lip deadpanned.

“Why?” He threw his hands up in exasperation, unable to hold back his frustration. He was riding high right now and he didn’t want anything to ruin it. Lip always started on him about this thing with Mickey. He seemed to think Ian wasn’t fully aware how ridiculous it was to still be in love with Mickey after all this time, but he was wrong. Ian was all too cognizant of that fact.

“Jesus Christ Ian, you gotta give it up. Dude’s straight.”

“I know that!” Ian snapped. “He’s my best friend, Lip. I know, okay? I haven’t thought about him like that in a long time.”

Lip snorted. “Yeah, okay, like I believe that.”

“I’ll be fine.” Lip said nothing in return, just shook his head disbelievingly, so Ian pressed on. “It’ll be nice to see him again. I know what I’m doing, I wouldn’t do it if I thought I couldn’t handle it.”

“Living with the guy just screams bad decision making. No way you’ll be able to rein it in.” 

“Gimme a little credit. I’ve had years of practice. Plus, I’m an actor,” he said haughtily. “I pretend for a living, I can hide my feelings better than the average Joe.”

Lip laughed humorlessly. “That’s what you think. I’ve been around you two, you’re like a lovesick puppy dog, it’s disgusting. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle living with him. You’re gonna drive yourself crazy. I’m telling you right now, it’s a bad idea.” Lip punctuated his point by jabbing a finger into Ian’s forehead before turning around and leaving Ian in the room.

Lip was wrong. He _could_ handle it. It wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t.

Fuck, it was a really bad idea.

***

A few weeks later Mickey was walking into the arrivals terminal at LAX, lamenting his choice to forego one last cigarette before heading inside to wait for Ian. He checked the arrivals board as he entered and he hated the heavy feeling in his chest when he saw Ian’s plane had already landed.

He’d worked himself up into a fine lather about the whole situation since they had talked about Ian moving in and he’d finally reached a decision. At some point over the next few months, he was going to tell Ian the truth. ‘Cause it was supposed to set you free or some bullshit. And more than anything, Mickey just wanted to be free. 

He wasn’t out in the public eye. His manager assured him it was better for his image not to be if he wanted to keep landing the same parts. Mickey loved his career. He had worked hard and went on audition after audition for about a year, getting bit parts here and there before he got a lucky break and it all snowballed from there. A few top-notch action roles, a couple of war movies, a fantasy series — Mickey was successful, but not over the top famous, so he didn’t understand why the fuck it would matter anyway, but he listened to her in the end.

But he would tell Ian, _he would._ It was stupid Ian didn’t know he was gay. Ian would understand, he could trust Ian with anything and it was time. He just had to find the right moment. In the meantime, he just had to squash his feelings right the fuck down. Be best friends and be happy about it. Mickey had convinced himself it would all be fine. 

He thought he could handle it. He did. Right up until he saw Ian Gallagher’s beautiful fuckin’ mug with that lopsided grin again for the first time in way too long.

Ian beamed as soon as he spotted Mickey and picked up his pace to get to him quicker. Mickey laughed at the stupid lovable ginger fuck as he dodged bodies in the crowd. It was a good thing Ian was moving toward him, because his feet felt heavy and he was rooted to the spot. His heart beat unsteadily in his chest waiting for Ian.

Ian dropped his bags as soon as he was in front of Mickey and opened his hands up wide for a hug. “Come here!”

Mickey rolled his eyes and pretended to huff before slipping into Ian’s arms. Fuck, he’d missed him.

As Ian wrapped Mickey up in his arms, he buried his nose in Mickey’s neck and surreptitiously inhaled his scent. He loved the way Mickey smelled.

“Alright, Gallagher, let me go, let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Ian finally let Mickey go and picked up his bags. “Lead the way, Mick.”

*

“I can’t believe you still have this fuckin’ car,” Ian remarked as he leaned back in the seat and kicked his feet up on the dashboard. “Thought for sure it’d have died by now.”

“Nah man,” he answered, swatting at Ian’s feet to get the fuck off his car, Ian laughing at him as he dropped his feet back to the floor. Mickey patted the dash lovingly. “This here’s old reliable.”

“You’re so weird. Petting your car like that. Do you two need a room?”

“Fuck off. And don’t touch my radio. I see you eyeballin’ it, Gallagher. Don’t be pushing all my buttons ‘cause you wanna be a dick.”

“First of all, I’m offended, I’m never a dick—” Ian was cut off by Mickey’s snort “— I’m _not_. I do _like_ dick though,” Ian grinned at Mickey’s resulting groan. Mickey loved to hate his corny ass jokes and Ian knew it. “And I’ll only ever push your buttons when you want me to.”

Mickey stuck his tongue into his cheek as he shook his head before breathing out a long-suffering sigh. Ian chuckled at his own dumb joke and they fell into a comfortable silence after that, Mickey concentrating on the road and listening to the music in the background as Ian not so subtly stared at Mickey, all dopey and starry eyed. 

Mickey eventually glanced over at Ian and did a subtle double take as he caught him staring. “The fuck you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing,” Ian supplied immediately, turning his head forward. He forced himself to keep looking ahead before giving in and returning his gaze to Mickey. “Just… it’s good to see you again, Mick. I’m happy you invited me to stay.”

“Me too,” Mickey grinned back, deciding to take it a step further. “Missed ya.”

“You did?”

“Course I did, dumbass!” Mickey reached over and ruffled Ian’s hair. Ian batted Mickey’s hands away, laughing. Daring another look away from the road, he ran his fingers through Ian’s hair, straightening it back out and definitely not savoring the feel of it for longer than he should have.

“Me too.”

“‘Course you missed me,” he said as he turned his attention back to driving. “I’m the best person you choose to spend your time with.”

“Glad to see fame and success hasn’t gone to your head. Humble as ever.”

“Damn straight. Hey, hand me a cigarette, will ya?”

Ian reached for the pack tucked into the cupholder and plucked a cigarette and the lighter from inside. He lifted it to his mouth, sparking the Bic to light the end. He took a few puffs before handing it over to Mickey.

“So, when’s shooting start?” Mickey asked.

“Not ‘til next week. You working much this summer?”

“Just some promo stuff for the show, that’s it really. Gotta pick my next project soon, though.”

“Good to know.” Ian grinned happily. “Now you have no excuses about hanging out with me all the time. You’ll be sick of me in no time.”

Mickey bit his lip, resisting the urge to tell Ian there was no way in the world he’d ever get sick of him. With his eyes trained ahead of him on the busy highway, Mickey couldn’t shake the feeling that the next few months would change everything. Sneaking one more glance to the passenger seat, Mickey briefly let himself imagine the possibilities, silently hoping that by the end of the summer, nothing would be the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://whaticameherefor.tumblr.com/) and come talk about Ian and Mickey with me!


	2. Maybe

It was the next morning and all they’d done the night before was order in and catch up with each other, the TV quiet in the background, before they called it a night. Mickey woke up earlier than he normally did, though, after a relatively sleepless night. He’d tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning, letting his mind wander; thinking of best and worst-case scenarios for telling Ian the truth. Because now that he’d resolved to being honest with Ian, it was all he could fucking think about.

He’d perversely let the dreams where after coming clean everything went wrong and Ian just ended up staring back at him with nothing but sadness and anger in his eyes go on longer than he should have. He’d thought that this way he could prepare himself for the eventuality. But the dreams where Ian felt the same way as him and they made up for lost time were his favorite — so he let them linger in his subconscious. He knew that that was all they were ever going to be, though. Dreams. 

After torturing himself for too long again, Mickey sat up in bed and dragged his hand over his face in an effort to wake himself up. He sighed as he tossed the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding his head in his hands for a moment trying to summon the energy to greet the day. 

Finally, he walked over to the closet to find something to wear. He told himself it wasn’t like he was putting extra effort into looking good with Ian around, but could no longer fool himself when he grabbed a navy blue vest that he knew complemented his eyes to throw over his lightweight long sleeve top. 

“Knock knock.”

Mickey smiled to himself quickly and then forced a scowl on his face before turning around. He swallowed — hoping not visibly — at the sight of Ian leaning against the door to his room, looking far sexier than he had any right to in running shorts and a sleeveless workout top, skin glistening slightly from sweat. “You’re the only douchebag I know that actually says ‘knock knock’ instead of just knocking.”

“You’re such a sweet talker,” Ian laughed as he made his way into Mickey’s room.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mickey watched with interest, his eyebrows raised slightly, as Ian perched himself on the edge of Mickey’s bed. At the sight of Ian in his space like that, he just couldn’t hold back the fantasies that had threatened to spill over for so long already — his mind was overcome with thoughts of pushing Ian further back on the mattress until his head hit the pillows at the base of the headboard, straddling Ian with his arms pinned above him. Mickey imagined slowly sliding down Ian’s toned body, licking and kissing down his chest, savoring every single inch of skin before—

“Mickey, did you hear what I said?” Ian’s voice was fond, tinged with only the slightest bit of exasperation.

“Sorry, spaced for a second,” he lied, shaking his head to get rid of dangerous thoughts. Of course, he hadn’t been paying attention, too distracted by the fantasy that suddenly, forcefully had taken over his mind. It was one thing to dream under the cover of night where he could take care of any _issue_ that presented itself with a train of thought like that, but Mickey hadn’t even realized Ian had been talking. Fuck, he had to snap out of it. “Too fuckin’ early. What’s up?”

“I asked if you had any plans today. Wanted to know if we could hang,” Ian said hopefully, making Mickey’s heart stutter.

“‘Course, man. Made sure I was free for your first day in town. You unpack all your shit?”

“Yeah, didn’t have much. Might want to go out later this week and pick up some stuff but I’m good for now.”

“Great, got any ideas? Last weekend before you start work, anything you wanna do?

“Actually yeah, saw something on my run this morning—”

“‘Of course you already went for a run, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian grabbed a pillow from the bed and chucked it at Mickey, who dodged it with a middle fingered salute and a laugh before Ian continued “ _—Anyway_ , so I was on my run and I saw those scooter things, thought they looked pretty cool. Maybe we could take some so I could pick up some weed, then get high and stuff our faces with breakfast food?”

Mickey clutched his stomach and groaned his appreciation for the suggestion. “Fuck yeah, I’m in. Let’s do it.”

“Okay, meet me in the living room in twenty? I’m just gonna shower and get changed real quick, then we can head out.” Ian patted his knees as he rose from the bed and elbowed Mickey playfully as he passed by.

Mickey fought to keep his face from splitting into a grin thinking about the sweet spot he had for that redheaded idiot. He didn’t last too long, his lips curling up into a smile against his will as he moved to get ready.

*

Mickey had forgotten how fuckin’ touchy-feely Ian got when he was high. 

After they’d raced each other on scooters (because Ian was a competitive _child_ ) and picked up a variety of goodies at the dispensary, they’d discreetly shared a joint and made their way toward Mickey’s favorite diner on foot, having dropped off the scooters.

Ian’s arm was wrapped around Mickey’s shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk together, Mickey listening to Ian ramble on about whatever popped into his head. He yammered on about how he was gonna inhale some fuckin’ flapjacks and bacon and maybe some sausage too— with that fuckin’ grin he had every time he made an innuendo in Mickey’s presence. Fucker was chatty when he was baked, too.

Mickey didn’t mind being touched like that by Ian. In fact, when Ian started getting handsy when they first became friends and started smoking together, he realized all too quickly how much he actually enjoyed the casual affection.

It brought him back to high school when they would spend almost all their free time together. They were close in the way he _hoped_ other boys were, but thought it was probably just him and Ian. They’d roughhouse, get physical with each other, and they weren't afraid of friendly touches in public. They _were_ friends after all. And, well, Mickey never brought attention to it because he didn’t wanna make things weird. Plus, he never wanted it to stop. 

Mickey had known we was gay since middle school, consciously averting his eyes in the locker room when it became mandatory to change for gym class, never letting himself stray from the task at hand — get in, get changed, get out. No wandering eyes allowed. But he never let himself _like_ a guy, choosing to simply appreciate them from afar. Until Ian. 

They’d met Mickey’s sophomore year when they both went out for the play and got close during the run of the production. Mickey knew he felt differently about Ian; he was special to him for a reason Mickey didn’t want to admit to at first. But Mickey wanted him around, and Ian never really left him alone after the show ended, so they became practically inseparable. 

He’d worked out pretty quickly he was in love with Ian a few months after that and it scared the shit outta him. He couldn’t allow himself to have feelings for a guy. He could look all he wanted, he could fantasize to his heart’s content, but being in love with a man? With his best friend? That was dangerous. If his dad had found out, he would have killed him himself. So he tried to put it out of his mind, because Ian was his best friend. He couldn’t be anything more, no matter how much Mickey wanted him to be. 

When Ian came out to him, it should have changed things. He should have been fuckin’ ecstatic to know that the object of his desire wasn’t completely out of reach. It should have put him in the running. And it did change things, but not in the way that Mickey had dreamed of. Faced with the reality of Ian batting for his team, he was paralyzed with fear. 

If Mickey didn’t even make himself an option, then he would never get hurt by Ian not choosing him, he reasoned. And the likelihood that they both would have gotten hurt had Ian actually reciprocated was far too great to chance.

So he kept his mouth shut. Anyway, it was the South Side, there was no fuckin’ way he would have come out when he still lived there. He didn’t even tell Mandy he was gay until he had moved out to LA.

So it didn’t really bother him to stay in the closet in Hollywood. A lot of actors did it, apparently. Better to have girls still wanna be with him and guys wanna _be_ him; that way both demographics were a potential for the box office. Besides, it wasn’t like it was anyone’s fucking business who he banged anyway. 

But now, with Ian’s hand wrapped around his neck, shaking him tenderly as they chatted about Ian’s next job, how long Mickey had before he had to do some press for his latest show, and what Mandy had been up to, Mickey couldn’t help but wonder.

_What if?_

What if Ian didn’t care that he was gay, too? What if he’d forgive Mickey for keeping it a secret for so long? What if Ian was in love with him, too? What if they could be happy in a way Mickey never could be with anyone else?

(He conveniently put it out of his mind that the reason he’d never found that kind of happiness was because he never actually tried, but that was neither here nor there.)

Sometimes he thought maybe the way Ian behaved around him was just how Ian was. He was a hugger. He had very little sense of personal boundaries. He and Mandy were always hanging on each other, too. Mickey wasn’t special. 

But what if he was? 

Maybe Ian had been harboring secret feelings for him all these years, too? Maybe if he told Ian how he felt, everything would work out? Stranger things had happened. But then again, he thought ruefully, this wasn’t some fuckin’ rom-com movie. This was real life. 

Besides, Ian was out and he knew Ian would want someone who wasn’t afraid to be out with him. He deserved that. Ian didn’t need someone that was way too comfortable hiding in the closet. But the scariest part, another contributing factor to his silence all those years ago, was that Mickey would come out for him. He’d fucking risk everything to be with Ian, if only he could work up the courage to make himself an option.

Mickey was jolted out of his musings when Ian spotted the diner and took off running, yelling back at Mickey to “Keep up, grandpa.”

Mickey shook his head and sprinted to catch up. “You’re a fucking dead man, Gallagher!”

***

It was a beautiful, calm night. Ian was relaxing in Mickey’s backyard, enjoying a pleasant California evening. Ian was used to New York City nights. Frenzied — the lights from the skyscrapers always glowing, the sounds from the inhabitants permeating every corner of the city, there was no escaping that. Mickey’s neighborhood on the other hand was dark, quiet. Peaceful in the way it could never be in the city. In New York, no matter how high the rooftop he’d manage to climb was, the noise always managed to reach him and break through. 

It was the city that never sleeps, after all. And often Ian would find himself unable to sleep as well. He would find himself thinking about what could have been. How his life could have been different. If he had followed Mickey to LA. If he never made it big. If he’d never gotten sick.

Tonight was one of those nights and surprisingly, even though his mind was in turmoil, Ian felt serene, almost. Trying to tame his wandering mind, he lit a cigarette, inhaling long and deep before reclining in the patio chair. He tapped the end and watched as the embers turned to ash as they fell, as he got lost in thought. 

He closed his eyes and ran through the day once more in his head. The laughs, the smiles, the touches. He remembered this feeling. The constant questioning of every brush of their hands, every look they shared. Repeating Mickey’s words over and over, always looking for more, always _wanting_ them to mean more. He’d been away for so long he fooled himself into thinking he’d always imagined everything. Told himself it was better that way, anyway. 

But he wasn’t crazy. He knew that now. _He wasn’t._

The way Mickey’s eyes had traveled down his body that morning after his run. The way Mickey slipped his arms around Ian’s waist as they walked around town. The way he paused before speaking, careful, _so fucking careful_ , of every word that left his mouth. Like he was afraid of what would come tumbling out if he didn’t keep just a little bit of himself from Ian. 

It was maddening and depressing in equal measure. 

He just wanted Mickey to open up to him the way he did with Mickey. Ian was honest about _almost_ everything. Mickey had been there for him through it all. Thick and thin. Good times, bad, all that shit. And nobody understood him like Mickey did. Nobody cared about him like Mickey did. He was his best friend.

Fuck, Mickey was his _best friend_. And Ian was in love with him.

They’d only been living with each other for a day and Ian couldn’t keep it together. Lip was right. This was a royally fucking bad idea.

Ian stiffened as he heard the patio door open behind him and then: “Hey.” Mickey’s voice was happy, surprised. “What’re you doin’ up? Jetlag?”

“Nah, just wanted one last smoke before bed,” he explained as he held up his nearly finished cigarette. He didn’t mention it was actually his fourth; chain-smoking and stressing out about the circumstances he’d stupidly put himself in. “As soon as I take my meds I’ll be out like a light. Jetlag shouldn’t be a problem.”

“How’s that going?” Mickey asked, reaching over to grab a smoke from Ian’s pack. Anyone else would have hesitated, worried about how Ian would react to the question. Not Mickey.

“Good,” Ian answered with a soft smile, leaning over to crush the cigarette on the ground, leaving it there in the graveyard of all the others littered in the dirt. “Haven’t tried hijacking any cars off of a production lot again yet, so can’t really complain.”

“Don’t do that,” Mickey chastised as he slipped the cigarette between his lips and nodded his thanks as Ian passed him the lighter. Ian tried not to focus on the way Mickey’s mouth wrapped around the filter, forcing his gaze away from Mickey’s lips. “Know I hate you talkin’ ‘bout yourself like that, shithead.”

“It was a fucked up time, but I’m better now. Gotta joke about it, Mick. Reminds me how far I’ve come.”

“Whatever,” Mickey grumbled as he lit the cigarette. “Still don’t like it.”

Ian nodded, smiling softly. “I know.” 

And he did. Ian knew how much Mickey beat himself up for not being around when Ian first got sick and subsequently diagnosed a few years back. Mickey thought he would have spotted the signs sooner, thought he would have been able to get Ian the help he needed without having caused all the destruction that he did. Ian wasn’t so sure, though. And if he was being honest, he was glad Mickey hadn’t been around to see him at his worst. He didn’t want that for Mickey. He wanted nothing but good things for Mickey. 

He wanted to be the best version of himself for Mickey.

Mickey glanced over to him and maybe it was just a trick of the dim light that the window to the house was letting out, too hard to really see in the dark yard, but Ian thought Mickey’s features softened. “But you’re doing okay? With the breakup and everything?”

“Yeah, long time coming, honestly. I dunno,” Ian said, shaking his head. “Never know what the fuck I was thinking when I look back at all my relationships.”

“You picked some winners, man,” Mickey grinned, dodging Ian’s halfhearted attempt at a punch.

“Fuck off, alright? They never seem like assholes at first.”

“Thought that was your favorite part of ‘em?” Mickey teased.

“I can’t believe you,” Ian laughed. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation right now!”

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled as the cigarette bounced up and down in his mouth, holding his hands up in faux surrender. “Spill your guts, you big girl.”

Ian rolled his eyes extra hard in mock offense. “I just — I guess I just throw myself into relationships all the time. And like, I get in too deep, too fast but then as soon as they start to get serious on their end, I get spooked. You know, I know they’re not the one or whatever, and then all of a sudden, it’s too much and I gotta jump ship.”

Mickey took his time taking a drag before blowing smoke out through his nostrils, a move Ian found stupidly hot for some reason. His voice was deeper, a little huskier when he asked, “Why’d you think that is?”

Ian shrugged. “I think a part of me knows they’re never really right. Don’t wanna waste any more time on something knowing I’ll just regret it. Really shitty at being alone, though. Always have been.”

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“What’s your excuse, then, huh? Perpetual bachelor.”

Mickey dipped his head, looking away from Ian briefly before turning back. “I’m not opposed to relationships or anything like that. Just… never found the right person, I guess.”

And it was the way Mickey said it that made Ian pause. He considered Mickey carefully before deciding it was nothing. Mickey didn’t need to specify a gender, obviously. It was a common expression. There was no hidden meaning to be found. He needed to stop overthinking, for fuck’s sake. “Well, don’t give up, alright? Never know when you’ll meet the love of your life.”

‘Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I guarantee it. Always happens when you least expect it to. You’ll find someone eventually and you’ll wanna lock it down.”

Mickey pursed his lips and turned his face away again. Ian’s stomach twisted in knots as he got the feeling that Mickey was hiding something, holding back, as usual. “If you say so, man.”

Ian wasn’t sure what to do about the tension he felt slowly building between them just then. He wasn’t sure if he _could_ do anything about it. If it was even happening. It could easily be all in his head, as usual. Ian knew he probably shouldn’t waste any more time thinking about shit he had no control over. Sussing out whatever was bothering Mickey would prove to be a lost cause if any of his past attempts were any indication. 

He decided to stop torturing himself and call it a night, so he made a show of standing up, stopping briefly to pat Mickey’s shoulder as he muttered a “goodnight” before ascending the short flight of stairs back inside.

Ian paused before shutting the door all the way, letting himself get a good look at Mickey without worrying about getting caught. Dread settled deep in his stomach, worrying once again about things he couldn’t change. 

*

A few days into the first week on his new job, Ian pushed through the door, exhausted from a long day on set. He wanted to smoke a bowl, stuff his face, and then pass the fuck out. As he entered the kitchen though, he was greeted with the sight of Mickey’s ass as he leaned over the counter perusing takeout menus and his plans for the night went right out the window.

He’d tried to fight the images flying through his mind, he really did. But all he could think about was sliding up behind Mickey, running his hand from the top of his ass all the way up his spine before gripping the back of Mickey’s neck, and pushing him down onto the countertop, all the while grinding his hard dick into the crack of Mickey’s ass. He could practically hear the moans that would elicit from Mickey and all he wanted to do was drop to his knees, yank down all the offending fabric in his way and go to town on that ass. 

Mickey must have heard Ian come in because in the middle of Ian’s dirty daydream, he turned, looking at Ian with an amused expression on his face. 

“You doin’ okay, man?”

Ian blinked furiously, silently berating himself for being a horny bastard and exhaled. “Yeah, fine. Long day,” he replied, hoping that would be enough of an explanation.

Ian dropped heavily onto the sofa, trying to ignore the way Mickey eyed him critically. After a moment, Mickey huffed and returned to the task Ian had interrupted when he walked in. “Whatever, man, was just figuring out what to order for dinner. Whatcha in the mood for?”

“Ugh, anything but pizza.”

“Such a fuckin’ snob,” Mickey groused. Ian shrugged and didn’t fight him on it since it was true. After living in Chicago and New York, the pizza anywhere else just never measured up. “Mexican?”

“Hell yes. I could eat two massive burritos and then some. Fucking’ starving right now.”

Mickey shuffled the menus on the counter until he found one he liked. “Chicken or steak?”

“Mmm, steak,” he answered.

“You really want two?”

“Nah, just one. Maybe some chips and guac though.”

“Alright, pack the bong and I’ll order.”

Ian closed his eyes as he listened to Mickey place the order, ending the call with a stilted ‘gracias’ which had Ian smiling. He did his best to keep them shut when he felt Mickey jostle the couch as he sat down. Just as Ian was about to get up and grab his stash his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the number quizzically. “What the fuck is James calling me for?”

Mickey seemed to tense at the mention of Ian’s ex, but Ian didn’t think too much about it. Mickey never seemed to like any of the guys he dated. “Don’t answer the shithead.”

“He’s annoying as fuck. He won’t let up until I answer, I just know it.”

“You don’t owe him shit, Ian.”

Ian sighed. He knew that, but he still felt shitty just cutting the guy out of his life. It was good for a while, until it wasn’t. But Ian knew he had a tendency to push all the bad shit out of his mind when it came to guys and just remember the good parts when things ended. Mandy said he romanticized his relationships too much, which Ian never understood. Relationships are supposed to be romantic. Besides, it couldn’t have been all bad…

“I’ll just see what he wants and get rid of him real quick.” Ian stood up and headed toward the patio to take the call, not wanting to subject Mickey to whatever James wanted to talk about.

Before he could even get out a greeting, James was shouting down the line.

“What the fuck, Ian?!”

“Hello to you, too, James.” Ian plopped himself down in a patio chair and steeled himself for a conversation to come that was sure to get on his nerves. 

“Don’t be fuckin’ coy with me. Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw the pictures! You can’t even wait a few weeks before jumping into someone else’s bed huh?”

Ian shook his head, not that James could see what he was doing, just as confused as ever. 

“Again,” Ian stressed, trying not to lose it. “Not a fuckin’ clue.”

“The pictures, Ian. You and your little fuck buddy gallivanting all around LA. Hanging off each other like you’re two seconds away from shagging in the street.”

Ian furrowed his brows. “I haven’t been out with anyone except Mickey.”

James chuckled darkly and Ian winced, knowing he just stepped in some shit. “ _Mickey_?” James screeched. “That’s Mickey? Your best friend who wouldn’t shut up about the entire time we were together? The same Mickey you’re fuckin’ in love with?!”

Ian puffed out his cheeks, exhaling all the air in his lungs in hopes of losing his breath. If he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t have to have this awful discussion. 

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, I’m not in love with Mickey. He’s my best friend. That’s it.”

“You’re so full of shit, Ian. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“After the millionth time of me telling you that Mickey’s straight and nothing is ever gonna happen, yeah, James, I kinda do.”

“Fuck you. I’m not the one in love with a straight guy.”

“I’m not in love with him!” Ian was practically shouting now. He wasn’t sure why the fuck he was even entertaining this shit anymore. James scoffed on the other end of the line and Ian couldn’t take another second of this pompous ass. Fuck it. Fuck _him._ “And even if I was, you and I are not together anymore. It’s none of your fuckin’ business. Why the fuck does it matter to you?”

“I have a reputation, Ian. You’re making me look like a right fool.”

“I don’t have to do anything for that to happen.”

“Oh, you think you’re real clever, huh? Check out the photos, you’re practically mooning over him. But you know what? It’s fine. I’ll just sit back and watch your little fantasies die right in front of your eyes. Mark my words: this won’t end well. And I’ll be the one who gets the last laugh.”

And with that, James hung up before Ian could even respond. He pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it in disbelief. It was only a minute before curiosity got the better of him and he brought up his web browser. Feeling like an idiot, he typed his and Mickey’s name into the search bar and held his breath in anticipation.

Well. They weren’t exactly scandalous photos. Which, he obviously knew because he hadn’t done anything out of the norm when he was out with Mickey anyway. They were from their outing the week before, Ian’s arm casually slung around Mickey’s shoulder, both of them laughing brightly. 

But, shit. It did sort of look like Ian was in love with Mickey if you looked close enough at his expression. Lip was right, yet again. Ian just couldn’t help himself when he was around Mickey. 

He desperately hoped he could play it off.. He was high. And dopey. And clingy. Yeah, that’s what he’d go with. 

He cursed under his breath and braced himself for an awkward conversation before heading back inside. 

***

It was a shitty thing to eavesdrop on Ian’s conversation with James. But Mickey was too interested in what that shithead could possibly want from Ian. They were broken up. Ian wasn’t James’ anymore.

Not like he was Mickey’s either, but still. 

He positioned himself stealthily by the windows leading out to the back. Luckily, Ian was loud when he was pissed off so he could hear the conversation crystal clear.

Only, after a few minutes, he wished he couldn’t. He wished he had the willpower to turn away, to stop listening. 

_“I’m not in love with Mickey. He’s my best friend. That’s it.”_

Ian’s words sliced through his heart. His lower lip trembled as he sucked in a shaky breath.

“Fuck.”

He slid down the wall as he felt his world crumbling around him. God, he was a fuckin’ idiot for believing he might actually have a shot with Ian. He laughed bitterly at how stupid he was for thinking he could be happy, truly happy for once in his goddamn life.

As if the universe just wanted to add insult to injury, his phone started going off. He contemplated letting it go to voicemail, but he thought he could use a distraction right then. 

He glanced quickly at the number on the phone and steadied himself for a call with his publicist. “What’d I do now, Marissa?”

“It’s worrying you think you’re always in trouble when I call you,” she answered.

“Lifetime of experience, Ris, I’m always in fuckin’ trouble.”

“Well, this time it’s not _that_ bad,” she sighed. “There’s gonna be some rumors, that’s for sure. But nothing a little damage control won’t fix.”

“Gonna clue me in?”

“I emailed you the news bite. Why didn’t I know you knew Ian Gallagher?”

“What? The fuck’s it matter?”

“Perez is gonna have a field day with this.”

Mickey let Marissa ramble as he quickly checked his email, groaning loudly when he saw it was that same stupid website that broke the news about Ian’s split with James.

_Getting Friendly In LA_

_New couple alert?! Action hunk Mickey Milkovich has been spotted out and about in LA with a newly single Ian Gallagher. Fresh off a breakup, Gallagher is in LA filming his latest TV show and has reportedly shacked up with the raven-haired bad boy, Milkovich who has opened up his home to the heartthrob._

_Sources say the pair have been friends for some time, both hailing from Chicago, but we can’t help but wonder if there’s something more happening between the two. Ian and Mickey seemed a little too friendly on an outing to a popular dispensary before grabbing a bite to eat over the weekend. Check out the pictures below for yourself and let us know what you think in the comments!_

Underneath the blurb were pictures of Ian and Mickey from the weekend before and yeah, he conceded it looked _kinda_ bad to an outsider, but that’s just how they fuckin’ were. It didn’t matter what he actually felt because it wasn’t what it looked like. It didn’t matter what he really wanted to happen because they were just friends. Ian had made that more than clear. 

It hit him suddenly that that’s what Ian’s phone call had probably been about. He placed his head in between his knees and cursed. “What the fuck?”

“Yes, well, it’s a bit of a conundrum,” Marissa replied.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid. So what? We’re friends. Yeah, Ian’s gay. Just ‘cause I hang out with him that means I’m gay, too? That’s some fucked up logic.”

“Well,” she paused, probably considering the best way to broach the subject. In the end, it seemed like getting straight to the point was the way to go. “You _are_ gay, Mickey. And Tony has already explained why it’s best to keep that on the down-low for a while.”

Mickey’s head popped up at the sound of the back door opening and he scrambled off the floor only to begin pacing instead.

“Okay, fine, but we’re not together. We’re just friends. Old friends. And he’s staying with me because that’s what friends do. If anybody gives a shit, just tell them that. It’s the fuckin’ truth so it should be good enough.”

Not wanting to hear her opinions on the subject, Mickey quickly ended the call and threw his phone down on the coffee table.

“Guess we made quite the splash,” Ian ventured.

Mickey scoffed. “Yeah, PR’s all over it already. It’s just some pictures, not like it means anything.”

“Right,” Ian said softly before clearing his throat and walking over to the bookshelf. He picked up their box of weed and paraphernalia and returned to the couch, picking up right where they left off. “Is it really such a big deal your publicist has to handle it?”

Mickey sunk down into the sofa next to Ian trying to glean some comfort from his presence. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Bad for the image, or so they tell me.”

“Really?” Ian’s nose scrunched up as he packed the grinder. “That sucks.”

“Not like I give a shit, really. My agent’s always worried that one whiff of gayness and all the offers will dry up.” 

“Well, that’s just not fuckin’ true.”

“I know! It’s bullshit. I had to pass on this really juicy role in this biopic because they didn’t even want me to play gay. It’s just a fuckin’ part, you know? It was a real good one and they wouldn’t even let me audition!”

Ian was quiet as he transferred the ground up weed into the bowl of the bong. “You wouldn’t care about playing a gay guy?”

Mickey’s face screwed up, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. “Nah, man, why would I?”

Ian seemed a little stunned at the admission. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then shut it twice before anything came out. “Just surprised, is all.”

“Ian, you’ve been my best friend for years. You really think I’m homophobic like that?”

“No, no, I just— I dunno. Never thought about it honestly. Just surprised, I guess.” He turned his attention back to packing the bong, looking slightly agitated. It was a few moments before he blurted out, “So, you’d like, kiss a guy and everything?”

Mickey shrugged again. “Not a big deal.” And shit. Should Mickey really be saying shit like that? Especially to Ian? It was too late, now. 

“Yeah,” Ian replied quietly. Mickey looked over to take in Ian’s profile in time to see his face quickly shift into a grin. Only, it looked forced to Mickey. Like smiling was the last thing Ian wanted to be doing. “I mean, _I_ agree, obviously. Can’t recommend it enough.”

Mickey shoved Ian’s shoulder and laughed as it seemed everything had returned to normal. As if he hadn’t just had his heart crushed minutes before. 

Doing his best to put the whole mess behind him, he reached for the bong and sparked the lighter. He inhaled and held in his breath as long as he could before letting it all out, wishing the thoughts of Ian and happily ever after would float away with the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I do know Ian shouldn't really be smoking on his meds, but let's just pretend it's fine.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the first two chapters. Check back next week for the stunning conclusion! Or hit subscribe to get a handy little email notification.
> 
> Let me know what you think so far 💜
> 
> P.S. Follow me on [Tumblr](https://whaticameherefor.tumblr.com/) and come talk about Ian and Mickey with me!


	3. Beautiful People

Ian couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Mickey.

It was Friday night, a few days after the photo op incident, and Ian was settled in the corner of the couch, legs up on the cushions with his feet crossed at the ankles, trying to memorize his lines for the episode next week. “Trying” being the operative word because he was having difficulty retaining a fucking thing. 

Ever since Mickey said he wouldn’t have a problem kissing a guy for a role, Ian had been going crazy. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head. It wasn’t like Ian hadn’t dreamed of kissing Mickey a thousand times before — he’d fantasized about things much more scandalous than that, honestly. But that’s all they ever were: fantasies. He knew nothing would ever happen.

And it wasn’t like anything was going to happen _now_ , either. Realistically, he knew that. But before it had seemed out of reach. Totally beyond the realm of possibility. 

Now though…

_No._

He needed to put a stop to this. All that line of thinking would do was cause him even more heartache. Ian had worked so hard to get over his feelings for Mickey, to keep them contained and to do his best to act normal around his best friend, but a couple of weeks with Mickey had set Ian back years. He felt like he was 15 again, obsessed with stealing a kiss from the troubled, beautiful boy destined for bigger things.

As he read the line for the third time he heard the jingle of keys in the door and braced himself. He could kiss productivity goodbye now that he’d actually be in Mickey’s presence.

Mickey greeted Ian with a gruff “hey” when he walked into the kitchen and started unpacking groceries. Ian tried to focus on memorizing his lines and not on the way Mickey’s shirt rode up as he stretched to reach the higher shelves in the cabinets or the soft grunts he let out making room for items in the refrigerator. 

His attempt at forced concentration paid off for a few minutes while Mickey put away the food until his attention shifted when Mickey sat down on the opposite end of the couch with a sigh. Ian squawked indignantly as Mickey knocked Ian’s feet down to the ground.

“Always putting your feet all over my shit,” he complained.

Ian grinned cheekily and brought his feet back up and deposited them in Mickey’s lap. Mickey raised his eyebrows in challenge but when Ian didn’t budge, he rolled his eyes, grumbling incoherently before letting Ian have his way.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked, clearly already over the whole feet issue. 

Ian held his script up and answered, “Tryin’ to memorize my lines for next week.”

“You gotta be off-book?”

“Not really, just wanna make a good impression. Anna Lawrence is directing and you know she does like, blockbusters and shit. Gotta be on my game, make those connections.”

Mickey nodded his understanding and reached for his phone, content to pass the time sitting alongside Ian. He must have noticed Ian’s unease so he asked, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Ian huffed. “Can’t concentrate for shit tonight for some reason.”

“Meds fucking with ya or somethin’?”

“Nah, lot goin’ on,” he answered vaguely.

Mickey seemed to debate something internally before offering, “Want me to help you run lines?”

“Sure,” Ian shrugged and passed Mickey the script. “Start from the top, before the kiss, I’ve got that stuff down, hopefully shit flows after that.”

Mickey flipped back a few pages and scanned the lines. “This a romantic scene? You got a love interest in this show?” Mickey’s eyes lowered back down to the script briefly then back up to Ian. “You never mentioned your character was gay.”

“Not really a big deal, Mick. I _am_ gay, so…”

“I didn’t mean it like that, asshole. I just—” Mickey cut himself off with a shake of his head. 

Ian studied Mickey for a moment. He was acting weird all of a sudden. Why did it matter? Hadn’t Mickey just said he wouldn’t have a problem playing gay? (Of course, he had, Ian couldn’t stop fuckin’ thinking about it.) They were just running lines, it wasn’t like Ian was going to make him go through with the kiss, so what was the problem?

Interest piqued, Ian toyed with the idea of pushing Mickey’s boundaries. Would he _really_ have no problem kissing a guy? Should he test out that theory? 

Fuck, that was a dangerous road to go down, though. And definitely something only a selfish asshole would do. He couldn’t trick Mickey like that, even if he was — by his own admission — a little bit of a selfish asshole sometimes. Besides, he wouldn’t want a kiss with Mickey to be tainted with lies and deception. 

Again, not that he’d ever had a snowball’s chance in hell of kissing Mickey for real. But, a guy could dream, right?

Mickey waved a hand in front of Ian’s face bringing his attention back to the moment and signaled he was ready to start. Ian muttered a quick apology and told Mickey he was good to go.

Mickey read the first line out in a terrible attempt at a Southern accent and Ian kicked at Mickey with a laugh, “Fuck you, thought you were trying to help me! Be serious, man.”

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what the dialogue notes say!” Ian withdrew his feet, bringing them up to sit cross-legged, huffing dramatically as he folded his arms across his chest to show his displeasure. “Alright, alright,” Mickey smirked. “I’m done now, had to get it outta my system.”

“Little shit.”

Mickey flipped him off with a bright smile and returned his attention to the script. He cleared his throat and started again.

“This is getting out of hand, Jay. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.”

“I just need some more time, Alex. A couple of months, at most.”

“It’s already _been_ months,” Mickey replied with a hint of desperation, getting into character. “Feels like there’s no end in sight.”

“You’re acting like this isn’t killing me, too. All I want is to be with you.” Ian made his voice crack a little, the emotions of the scene settling in. 

“That’s a little hard to believe sometimes,” Mickey whispered.

Ian scooted closer to Mickey so he could bring his hand to Mickey’s cheek like the script directed. 

“I love you, you have to know that by now. I’m doing this for us. It’ll all be worth it, I promise.”

Mickey’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and his eyes fluttered closed. Damn, he was really going method for this.

He exhaled shakily and opened his eyes, glancing down at the page for his next line. Ian knew what was coming after the next exchange.

“It’s just so hard seeing you all the time and not being able to have you.”

“You do have me. You have all of me, always.” Ian spoke his line softly, but with conviction. Their eyes met and something flashed in Mickey’s that threw Ian. 

_Holy shit_...was Mickey going to kiss him? It seemed like it. They were _so close_. Just a few more inches and their lips could brush together. Just a little bit closer and they would be kissing. God, Ian wanted it so badly. He wanted to feel how soft Mickey’s lips were; he was dying to know what Mickey tasted like. He told himself all he needed was one kiss. One time, that’s it, just once to know what it was like and then he could put it out of his mind forever. 

Who was he fucking kidding? One hit and he’d be addicted forever.

Ian felt himself lean in and he could have sworn Mickey did the same. Ian searched Mickey’s face under the pretense of the scene, Mickey’s breath picking up.

Ian exhaled and that seemed to break the strange spell they were under. Mickey slipped from Ian’s grip and stood up quickly. “Shit, I uh— I forgot I need to make a call. Before it gets too late.”

“Okay…” Ian answered, dazed from being shaken from the heady moment so abruptly.

“Yeah, my agent’s in New York this weekend and he told me to call him and it completely slipped my mind,” Mickey rambled. He held up his phone as if to prove his point. “I’ll just go and— and make that call.”

“Alright,” Ian called after him. “Good night, I guess?” 

He watched Mickey’s retreating form, his mind swirling with confusing, traitorous thoughts.

_What the fuck just happened?_

***

After Mickey ran away from Ian like a little bitch he didn’t leave his room for the rest of the night, opting to starve rather than face Ian. He’d been making a valiant fucking effort keeping things platonic since Ian had moved in and that all went to shit in a matter of seconds. He let himself get caught up in the moment. At least, he thought there’d been a moment at the time but he knew now he’d been imagining things. Ian was just acting. He was sure it was just the weight of the scene that was affecting them, that’s what he’d been picking up from Ian. But Mickey almost went too far and he was worried Ian thought so, too, so he wanted to avoid any kind of conversation with Ian about what the fuck he’d been thinking.

Instead of facing his problems like a big boy, he alternated between chain-smoking through his window and pacing the length of his room as he chewed his nails down to the quick. He eventually wore himself out and fell into a restless sleep. 

Saturday Mickey had managed to avoid Ian for pretty much the whole day. He hid out in his room like a pussy all morning, only venturing out when he was sure Ian had gone on his run. He lucked out the one other time he’d chanced leaving his room for lunch a few hours later, managing to miss his roommate, but he knew he wouldn’t always be so fortunate. That shit wasn’t sustainable. He wanted to punch himself in the face for being such an impulsive ass the night before, but he couldn’t hide forever, as appealing as that sounded. They’d see each other eventually. Unfortunately.

 **Sandy:** Stop being such a pussy. TELL HIM!!!

When he told his cousin about what had happened, he expected some sympathy, maybe some guidance about how to deal with this shit. She never exactly inspired confidence in him, though, so why the fuck he thought Sandy would help at all was anyone’s guess. That had been her advice every single time he’d thought about spilling his guts to Ian over the years.

 **Mickey:** Not helpful at all, fuck you very much 🖕🏼

Mickey huffed and threw his phone down on the bed. It’s not like he could fuckin’ talk to Mandy about the situation, either. He trusted her enough to come out to her, but he’d never let her in on the other secret that had dominated his life since high school. He’d always been closer to Mandy than any of his other siblings, but she and Ian had a stronger bond than Mickey and Mandy ever would. He had no way of knowing whether she’d hold her tongue when she was drunk or high or pissed off at him. Okay, he didn’t _really_ think she’d be vindictive like that, but she definitely could have spilled the beans unintentionally at some point, so Mandy was out.

He had absolutely no idea what to do and no one to turn to for advice. But he had to do _something_.

Fuck. He’d almost kissed Ian. Jesus Christ, he must have gone temporarily insane. That was the only explanation. 

But Ian had been so close. And he’d smelled so good. And his lips looked so _pink_ and _soft_ and he’d wanted it _so fuckin’ bad_. His head had been spinning, his focus singular on Ian’s mouth. He had no idea how he’d managed to stop himself, but thank fuck he did. 

He kept thinking about it. Replaying those few seconds on repeat in his mind. It didn’t seem like Ian would have pulled away, though. They had both been moving in, right? Sure, Ian was probably just following the script but he had been leaning in. They could have kissed.

And Ian really looked like he wanted to kiss Mickey, too.

Shit. He needed to get his mind off this obsession with kissing his best friend.

He needed to get laid.

Yeah, that should do it. Maybe he was just horny and he needed to fuck it out of his system.

He grabbed his phone again and fired off a text.

 **Mickey:** Need to go out. Anything going on tonight?

A few agonizing minutes later he received a reply.

 **Cole:** I’ve got just the thing! You know I’m always looking for an excuse to put on my best outfit, boy 😉💁🏼🕺🏼 I’ll text you the deets in a min!

Mickey rolled his eyes at the excessive emoji usage but breathed a sigh of relief, rolling out of bed to get ready.

*

Dressed to impress and a solution to get Gallagher outta his goddamn head in place, Mickey paused with his hand on the doorknob, suddenly realizing he had failed to consider an escape plan. He’d just have to hope Ian was out or hanging in his room and hopefully, he would be able to make a quick exit.

He turned the handle and steeled himself for the worst. 

Luck was not on his side.

As soon as he slipped out of his room he saw Ian, sipping on a can of soda in the kitchen, searching the cabinets for a snack.

Ian perked up at the sight of him and Mickey wanted, yet again, to punch himself in the face for almost putting his friendship in jeopardy. 

“Hey,” Ian greeted happily. “Long time no see.”

Mickey smiled unconvincingly. “Yeah, just catching up on some sleep, ya know?” _Jesus Christ, that was a lame-ass excuse._

Ian nodded, looking mildly amused. Suddenly his face fell, apparently just taking in Mickey’s outfit, his voice tinged with hurt when he asked, “Are you going out?”

Fuck, he knew he was the reason Ian sounded upset and now Mickey just felt like the worst piece of shit. All of his plans were instantly forgotten with one look at Ian’s puppy dog eyes; he knew he couldn’t live with himself leaving Ian alone that night. Just because he couldn’t keep his shit together didn’t mean Ian had to suffer. 

“Yeah, was just comin’ to see if you wanted to come with. There’s this party out by the beach. Some rich bitch my friend knows is celebratin’ something. Lotsa free booze, so thought I could get you to DD.”

His attempt to salvage Ian’s mood successful, Ian beamed. “Fuck yeah, let me get dressed and then we can head out.” 

“Perfect,” Mickey replied, hoping the sarcasm dripping into his tone wasn’t obvious as Ian walked out of earshot.

Mickey was so fucked. And not in a good way.

*

The sun was setting, coloring the sky a fiery orange, yellow, and purple as Ian and Mickey navigated the LA streets and highways toward the party. It was a short drive out to Santa Monica, filled with nervous energy from both Ian and Mickey, Mickey burning through no less than 3 cigarettes in the brief timeframe while Ian constantly fidgeted in his seat. Shortly after Ian had changed the station for the fifth time during the drive, they arrived at their destination.

Mickey glanced out his window at the revelers on the sidewalks. It seemed like everyone had come out to party tonight, the roads starting to be lined with expensive cars the closer they got to the beach. When they found a spot a couple of streets away from the house and parked, Mickey texted Cole to let him know they were there. He took one last deep breath and got out of the car. 

Ian and Mickey walked shoulder to shoulder toward the house, the pulsing music getting louder as they drew near. It was a beautiful summer night, cool and breezy, so close to the ocean they could hear the waves crashing and breaking along the shoreline, but the tension in the air between them was thick. Mickey knew he had been acting weird at the house and he needed to lighten the fuck up.

Oddly, the sight of Cole, in a black lace dress (he guessed that’s what it fuckin’ was, anyway), high-waisted pants, and high-heeled boots was just what the doctor ordered.

“Mickey Milkovich as I live and breathe, finally decided to let loose and party with the rest of the beautiful people of this fine city, I see.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, man. Jury’s still out on whether you delivered or not.”

Cole clutched his imaginary pearls and gasped. “You’ve offended my delicate sensibilities, I always deliver the goods.”

Ian’s chuckle earned an appraising eye from Cole, realization slowly dawning in his face. “Ian Gallagher? Oh my god, Mickey, you never told me you knew Ian Gallagher. I am ob-sessed.”

“Ya hear that, Mick. Looks like your friend’s a fan. Who knew?”

“Ey, easy on the labels. Friend’s a bit of a stretch. Ian, this is Cole. Works wardrobe on the show.”

“You continue to wound me, _Mick_.”

“Watch it,” Mickey warned. “He’s allowed to call me that,” he said, pointing at Ian before shaking his finger in Cole’s face. “Not you, got it?”

“So feisty,” Cole shimmied and Ian laughed again. “Come, I’m gonna need a round of Henney immediately. Like, _immediately_. Let’s get turnt in this motherfucker!”

Cole spun around in a flourish, pushing open the doors to the lavish beachfront home like he owned the place.

Ian and Mickey turned to each other with matching amused looks on their faces.

“Is he for real?” Ian questioned.

“‘Fraid so, man.”

“Well,” Ian began, holding his arm out to motion ‘after you’. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get turnt.”

“I fuckin’ hate you.”

*

Mickey knew he gave the guy a hard time, but he actually liked hanging out with Cole. He was ridiculous and hilarious, albeit unintentionally, but he wasn’t afraid to be himself. Even if that self was a little bit out there for Mickey’s taste, sometimes.

Ian had gone to the bar to get drinks for the three of them, apparently giving Cole the opportunity to grill him about Ian.

“Fess up, where have you been hiding tall, pale, and ginger all my life, bitch?”

“We know each other from back home.”

“Chicago?” Mickey nodded. “Same neighborhood?” Mickey nodded again. Cole arched an eyebrow and Mickey could see him giving Ian a once over. “Bad boy in disguise, huh? I like it. Bet he doesn’t take no shit.” Cole continued to stare Ian down and it was getting on Mickey’s nerves. Ian wasn’t a fucking piece of meat. “I hope the rumors about him are true.”

Mickey didn’t want to entertain whatever bullshit Cole was about to spout, but curiosity did kill the cat, after all. “What rumors?”

“That he’s hung like a horse and knows how to use it.”

“How the fuck would you know that?”

“I have my sources,” Cole responded cryptically. He tilted his head to the side to continue his inappropriate leering. “I think you can actually see the outline of his dick through those jeans.”

“Okay,” Mickey snapped. “Calm down.”

“Think I’m his type?”

“No.”

“Bet I could change his mind. Do some gymnastics on that dick, make him a convert.”

“Cole, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gonna punch you in the fuckin’ face.” 

“Oh shit,” Cole whirled to face Mickey with a devilish smile, his whole face lit up like he’d just won the lottery.

“What?” Mickey asked defensively.

“You’re in love with him!”

“Shut the fuck up, I am not.”

Cole sniggered knowingly. “Yes, you are, you sly dog. Shit, you’re so transparent, I’m ashamed it took me this long to see it. Why are you not all up on him right now?”

“None of your fucking business that’s why,” Mickey fired back. Cole arched an eyebrow, daring Mickey to tell him he was wrong. He knew it was a mistake letting it slip to Cole that he was gay on a night out when they were shooting last season. Sure, he’d gained a source of entertainment and someone to vent to about the shitty pool of guys on location without fear of being judged, but at what cost?

Mickey sighed, resigned. “Doesn’t know I’m gay. And don’t you fuckin’ tell him either, a’ight? ‘M gonna do it. Just, not yet. He just got here and he’s staying for the rest of the summer, don’t wanna fuck shit up so soon.”

Cole perched his chin on his fist, no doubt about to try to get all sage and wise with him when Ian, with his impeccable timing, returned with their drinks. He downed the shot of whiskey Ian handed to him right away, chasing it quickly with a sip of beer before looking around the room to avoid eye contact with Cole. 

As he surveyed the partygoers his stomach dropped to his feet when his eyes landed on a familiar figure on the balcony. He twisted away, hoping the man hadn’t seen him, muttering a curse under his breath.

“You okay?” Ian questioned with furrowed brows.

“Yeah,” he lied, heart beating wildly in his chest. “Fine.” 

Ian narrowed his eyes, probably considering if he wanted to push it or not, but ultimately he decided to leave it. Shrugging, he turned back to listen to one of Cole’s outlandish stories and Mickey sighed in relief. He did his best to put the sighting of a former fuck buddy out of his mind, determined to enjoy a night out with Ian. 

After a few more drinks and an endless stream of tall tales from Cole, he’d almost forgotten about why he needed the night out in the first place and the surprise appearance of someone he most definitely didn’t want to see any time soon, especially while he was out with Ian.

Mickey had been trying his best not to break the seal just yet, but he couldn’t hold off any longer. After letting Ian and Cole know he was gonna hit the can, he wandered off. He found the bathroom quickly enough and was feeling pretty good on his way back until he heard a voice that made his blood run cold.

“Mickey!”

He froze, his face screwed up, and he pinched the bridge of his nose wondering what the fuck he did in a past life to deserve this shit. He took a deep breath before turning to face the man he’d hoped to avoid the whole night.

“Bryan.”

Bryan advanced toward Mickey slowly, in what he suspected might have been an attempt at sultry but apparently, the guy had had a few too many and it just looked sloppy. “Knew it was you, I’d recognize that ass anywhere. Didn’t know you were back in town, why haven’t you called me?”

“Been busy,” Mickey replied dismissively. 

“Busy tonight?” Bryan was trying to sound seductive and even though he was drunk, it was kind of working since Mickey was sort of desperate. But Mickey wasn’t about to hook up at a party with Ian in the other room or ditch him just to get off no matter how badly he needed a dick in his ass.

“I’m here with friends, man. Not doing this with you.”

Mickey backed away and ended up hitting the wall as Bryan got dangerously close. Mickey’s senses were heightened, having been perpetually keyed up since Ian had been staying with him. A battle was raging inside him as Bryan caged him in with his arms on either side of Mickey’s body. Mickey wanted to push him away, tell him to fuck off so he could go back to Ian. But he felt weak, and it would be so easy to just give in. It was what he wanted at the start of the night — to get Ian out of his system with a good old fashioned fuck. Now that it was being served up on a silver platter, he knew for sure it wasn’t what he wanted anymore. 

Bryan took his hand off the wall and traced a finger lightly down Mickey’s neck, over his shoulder, and down his arm. Mickey couldn’t help his eyes drifting closed as his over sensitive skin relished in the touch. Bryan leaned in close to his ear and in a low, gravelly voice, gave it one more shot. “Come on, Mickey, it’s been too long, why don’t we have some fun catching up?”

He summoned all the willpower he had and was about to tell Bryan to back the fuck up when he heard his name being called.

“Mick?”

Mickey’s head snapped up in the direction of the voice, eyes flying open and widening as he realized who it belonged to. 

_Shit, fuck, shit, fuck._

***

Mickey’d been gone a little too long for a bathroom break. He hadn’t been _that_ drunk, not that Ian had seen, but Mickey had a habit of sneaking drinks and playing off how much he’d actually had, so there was no telling what state he’d really been in when he took off a few minutes ago. Ian told himself he was just being a concerned friend by seeking Mickey out to make sure he hadn’t gotten lost or was puking up an organ or something. It wasn’t like he was trying to keep tabs on him like a jealous, needy boyfriend or anything.

Ian turned to tell Cole where he was going only to find him bent over, hands on his knees, head bobbing side to side as he twerked his heart out. Ian nodded once to himself and backed away. 

He rounded the corner near the bathroom and stopped short, his mood instantly souring as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He blinked rapidly, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him because he refused to believe what he was seeing was real.

Mickey was backed up against a wall, trapped by a tall, muscular man towering over him, hands on either side, preventing Mickey from leaving, not that it looked like Mickey was in any kind of hurry to leave, anyway. The scene was strangely intimate and his stomach churned as he couldn’t help but think he was interrupting something. 

The man was wearing a predatorial expression and Mickey was looking back at him like he didn’t exactly hate the position he was in. It was probably wishful thinking, but Ian didn’t think he looked entirely comfortable, either. 

The guy brought a hand down so he was no longer caging Mickey in, letting his index finger run seductively over Mickey’s neck and down his arm as Mickey’s eyes flittered closed. He seemed to be whispering something close to Mickey’s ear but Ian was too far to hear what he was saying.

It couldn’t be Mickey, he told himself. If it was, why wasn’t he shoving this guy off him? Why did it look like Mickey _liked_ this guy touching him like that? 

White-hot fire burned inside Ian. He couldn’t let this happen. If anyone was going to touch Mickey like _that_ , make him feel good like _that_ , whisper things into his ear like _that_ , it would be Ian. Not whoever this douchebag was. It was irrational, Mickey wasn’t his, but fuck if he didn’t want Mickey to be his. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but _fuck_. He’d wanted Mickey for himself since he was fifteen fucking years old and he’d be damned if he’d let this asshole come in and take Mickey away. 

He’d been thinking about their moment on the couch the night before all day, going back and forth endlessly trying to decide if it was all in his head or not. But at that moment, he was sure of it. Ian and Mickey had almost kissed. It had to have meant something, he knew that now. And he knew he had to stop whatever was going on with those two before he emptied the contents of his stomach all over the floor. Consequences be damned, he didn’t care what happened next, as long as that asshole’s hands got the fuck off his Mickey. 

“Mick?”

Mickey’s head whipped up with a guilt-ridden expression. “Fuck,” he cursed as he shoved the guy away, taking a step toward Ian. Ian couldn’t hide the hurt and confusion that was undoubtedly written all over his face. “Ian, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Shit, didn’t know you had a boyfriend dude, wouldn’t have made a move.” The douchebag took another step back, worried he’d dropped himself in the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

“We’re not—” Ian began but was cut off by Mickey’s frantic reply.

“Shut the fuck up, Bryan. Just get outta here, alright?” The interloper didn’t need to be told twice and scampered off in the opposite direction.

“What - what’s going on? What was that?” 

“I can explain.” Mickey took another step toward Ian, face falling as Ian backed away.

“I don’t…” Ian shook his head, trying to sort through what he’d seen, what it meant. “I think I’m gonna go.”

“Okay,” Mickey nodded, visibly panicking. “I’ll come with you.”

Ian shook his head, unable to conceal the pain he was in, not from Mickey, not now. “I think I need to be alone right now.”

“Please,” Mickey’s voice broke. “Please, let me come with you, let me explain.”

Ian waited a moment to respond, thinking it over. Fuck, why was he acting like this? It’s not like they were together — they were just friends. Even if Mickey was what — gay? Bi? That still didn’t mean he had any right to react the way he did, but he couldn’t control his feelings after what he’d seen. He didn’t know what to do but he knew they’d have to talk about it eventually. Finally, Ian mumbled an “okay” before he wordlessly turned around to make a hasty exit. Mickey followed Ian through the crowd toward the front door, barely able to keep up with Ian’s longer strides. 

Ian didn’t look back as he practically ran down the street to get to the parked car. They climbed in and before Mickey even had time to fully close the door and get his seatbelt on, Ian’s foot hit the pedal.

The uncomfortable silence that filled the car was suffocating, making time pass excruciatingly slowly. Ian quickly looked to the clock and confirmed that it hadn’t been that long even though it felt like he had been driving for hours. Ian had no idea where he was going, all he knew was that he needed to drive. The lights of the city were fading into the background as the car climbed the winding roads of the hills of LA, houses becoming fewer and farther in between until they petered out altogether, seemingly headed nowhere. Finally, Ian pulled into one of the scenic overlooks and he calmly opened the door and stepped out. Mickey scrambled to follow.

Ian shook off his jacket and tossed it down on a patch of grass not too far from the car and dropped down onto the ground. Mickey cautiously took a seat next to him. Ian could see all the beauty of Los Angeles from here; the sprawling hills dotted with mansions meeting the glittering lights of buildings downtown, the Hollywood sign off in the distance. He tried to get lost in the view, to clear his mind of the tumultuous thoughts he just couldn’t tame.

***

After what seemed like an eternity and Mickey was sure he’d gnawed off all the skin on his lip, he turned his body to fully face Ian and begged, “Please, fuckin’ say something, man.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Ian sighed, resolutely keeping his eyes on the horizon.

“Anything. I know you, Ian. Your mind’s goin’ a million miles a minute. Rip me a new one, tell me you hate me, I just can’t take this fuckin’ silent treatment.”

“I don’t hate you, Mick. I’m just... confused. What was that? _Who_ was that?”

“An old co-star.” Mickey tried searching for the right explanation that would let Ian know it meant nothing, it was just sex, something he had to do when he had an itch that needed scratching. He didn’t want Ian to think — well he had no idea what Ian was thinking since he hadn’t said a fucking word since they left the party, but Ian was upset and once again it was all his fault. He just needed to fix this; he needed Ian to know how much he meant to him. “We used to have an arrangement when we worked together. That was it. I trusted him enough to be discreet, but it didn’t mean anything. He _doesn’t_ mean anything.”

“So your old fuck buddy wanted to start up again? Is that why you wanted to go out tonight?” Bitterness seeped into his tone, unable to keep his emotions in check.

Mickey shook his head, willing Ian to believe him. “I didn’t know he was gonna be there tonight. Nothing was gonna happen, he just cornered me when I was coming back from the bathroom.”

Ian snorted in disbelief. “Didn’t fuckin’ look like nothing.”

“I _swear_ , nothing was gonna happen.”

***

Ian exhaled slowly as he laid back onto the ground. Mickey glanced at him nervously before doing the same. Ian had so many questions and he knew it would be easier to ask them if he wasn’t looking at Mickey. 

“So, what does this mean? Are you bi?”

Mickey inhaled a shaky breath and Ian felt him shake his head as he responded vehemently, “Fuck no.”

“The girls back in high school?”

“Had to keep up appearances whenever my dad wasn’t locked up.”

“But the women you’re always seen with—”

“PR. Good for the image and all that shit. Told you my team’s super paranoid. Did you ever fuckin’ hear me talk about any of those girls?”

“I just thought you kept that shit to yourself. I mean clearly…” Ian waved his hand as he trailed off, Mickey turning his head away in shame. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Ian asked quietly, trying and failing to not let the pain color his words. “Did you know back then?” He looked over to see Mickey nod before turning his gaze back to the night sky. “Didn’t you trust me?” 

“It’s complicated,” was all Mickey could say.

“Simplify it for me, then.” Ian chanced another glimpse over to his friend beside him who looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. Ian wanted to understand why Mickey had gone so long lying to him. How long had Mickey known he was gay? He thought they were best friends — what could make him keep a secret like that?

“I don’t know why,” Mickey offered lamely, but he seemed to find some sort of rationale when he continued, “Bunch of stuff, I guess. Just got so used to lying to myself, to everyone. It was just easier. Thought you’d never speak to me again. And the longer I didn’t say anything the worse it got and I just felt so shitty for being too big of a pussy to tell you back then.” Mickey paused to collect himself, licking his lips as if it helped him gain some courage before he carried on. “I was gonna tell you this summer. Didn’t really have a plan or anything, but I just wanted—”

“I’m gay, Mickey. There’s no reason you couldn’t tell me! All those times I talked to you about how hard it was to be gay where we lived, how fucking scared I was all the time...I mean, if anybody could understand, it’d be me. Did you really think it would’ve affected our friendship?” 

“It would have,” Mickey insisted softly.

“Why? Why would I care? It would have been great to have a friend that knew what it was like!” He pushed himself up, too angry to lay down anymore and Mickey sat up with him. “It wouldn’t have changed anything unless…” Ian searched for a ludicrous excuse, one he was certain couldn’t be the actual reason. “It’s not like you’re in love with me or anything.” Ian threw out like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the same exact secret he’d been keeping from Mickey for years. 

Mickey had gone quiet again so Ian looked over at him in time to see Mickey covertly brush a stray tear from his cheek. “Mick?” Mickey quickly whirled away from him, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Mickey?”

“Just leave it, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I’m a piece of shit and I fucked everything up. Can we just forget this whole night ever happened?”

Ian’s jaw dropped, speechless. 

Mickey was gay. Mickey was _probably_ in love with him if Mickey’s lack of response meant what he thought it did. His mind was racing, trying to think back over the years, remembering all the signs he’d told himself were nothing, all the times Ian had second-guessed himself and questioned his fuckin’ sanity. Ian thought he had always given meaning to things Mickey would do or say because he had _wanted_ Mickey to feel the same way. He’d always convinced himself after the fact that it was simply wishful thinking because there was no way Ian would be so lucky to have the boy he’d been in love with forever feel the same way he did.

But he did. He _does_.

“You’re an idiot,” Ian breathed, breaking the silence.

***

“I know.” Mickey bit his lip, fighting the urge to look to his right. If he couldn’t see Ian’s face, he could fool himself into thinking his entire world wasn’t crashing down around him. He was sure he’d pushed Ian away for good. They couldn’t pick up the pieces of destruction that such a monumental lie had caused, it was a life-changing secret. There was no way they could stay friends after his revelation. And Mickey wasn’t sure he could face Ian every day now that Ian knew how he felt. It would hurt too much. Ian was lost to him forever now. 

From the corner of his eye, Mickey saw Ian turn to him and study his profile for a moment before Ian said, “So am I.” 

Mickey spun toward Ian with a confused look on his face.

“What…” But Mickey couldn’t finish his thought, Ian’s lips crashed into his, Ian’s fingers sinking into his hair, pulling them together. It only took a moment before Mickey responded, his own hands lifted up, frozen briefly before he let himself grip the back of Ian’s neck. 

The kiss started out tentative as they let their lips slowly explore each other. Micky couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He’d spent years telling himself he’d never be able to have Ian, years wasted miserable, their shared idiocy keeping them both from happiness. They had so much time to make up for.

Slowly, the kiss wound down and they pulled back to rest their foreheads against each other.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ian sighed happily, echoing Mickey’s own thoughts.

“Me neither, feel like you need to pinch me or somethin’.” Ian smirked as he attempted to do just that, Mickey twisting away as far as he possibly could while still staying seated. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, asshole,” he warned.

Ian laughed and quickly stole another kiss, his hands cradling Mickey’s face as he whispered, “I love you.” Ian’s eyes scanned Mickey’s face, still not sure this was all real. “God, it feels so fuckin’ good to say that out loud, finally.”

Mickey closed his eyes as he let Ian’s words sink in and breathed out happily. “I love you, too. I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you.”

“It’s okay,” Ian shrugged, smiling with just a hint of sadness. “I know now.”

“Shoulda said something sooner. Feels like we wasted so much time.”

“Hey.” Ian lifted Mickey’s chin with his forefinger to make sure Mickey could see the sincerity in his eyes when he said, “Don’t beat yourself up, I didn’t say anything, either.”

“Pretty sure your excuse was a little more valid than mine.”

“True,” he conceded with a tilt of the head, Mickey rolling his eyes and grinning in return. “Maybe you should make it up to me.” 

Mickey’s cheeks were hurting from all the smiling he was doing as he swooped in for another passionate kiss. Then like a switch went off, the intensity ramped up. Lips brushed together stronger, mouths opening up wider to let their tongues get in on the action. 

“Shouldn’t we — talk more — or some shit?” Mickey asked between kisses.

“I don’t feel like talkin’ right now,” Ian replied with a groan that spurred Mickey into action. He lifted himself up and straddled Ian, rolling his hips down into Ian’s lap as they continued kissing heatedly.

Mickey couldn’t even think about the enormity of the moment anymore, too worked up with Ian underneath him. He wrenched himself away from Ian and attempted to catch his breath. “I need you to fuck me, Ian.”

Ian’s hands immediately dropped to Mickey’s belt, frantically trying to remove his pants. His hips thrust up, his dick rubbing against Mickey’s ass and Mickey couldn’t contain the moan that followed.

“Get this fucking thing off, now,” Ian commanded as he lifted Mickey’s shirt over his head, letting Mickey return the favor. Mickey quickly rolled off him to kick off his pants and boxers while Ian did the same.

Mickey started salivating at the sight of Ian’s cock, gloriously hard and huge. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on that monster later,” he grinned naughtily.

“Why wait?” Ian wrapped a hand around his dick and stroked himself.

“Gonna ride you now,” he answered simply as he climbed back onto Ian’s lap. “Suck you off in the car on the way back to our place, maybe. Then I want you to fuck me into the mattress when we’re home.”

“Fuck, _please_ tell me you have some lube,” Ian pleaded as his dick visibly twitched.

Mickey nodded, leaning over to pull his wallet out from the pocket of his discarded jeans, finding the packet quickly and tossing everything else away again. 

“Jesus, you really were trying to get laid tonight,” Ian accused, agitated.

“You kidding me right now? Are you fuckin’ jealous?!” Mickey reared back.

“No!” Ian protested, grabbing the lube from Mickey’s hands.

“Come on, man, how was I supposed to know this shit was gonna happen? Get off my dick, alright?”

Slowly, a smile crept up on Ian’s face and he pulled Mickey closer to give him a peck on the lips. “Only if you get on mine instead.”

Mickey’s forehead dropped to Ian’s shoulder and he groaned, “Can’t believe I’m in love with your corny ass.”

“You’ve got excellent taste, really.”

“Alright, funny guy, shut the fuck up and get on me.”

“Gladly.” Ian ripped open the foil packet and squirted a healthy amount onto his fingers before reaching around Mickey. With his free hand, he directed Mickey’s head toward him, his tongue darting out to lick into Mickey’s mouth in an effort to distract the other man. Ian swirled his middle finger around Mickey’s hole once, twice, teasing him just a little before slipping it in, Mickey gasping as Ian entered him. Slowly, he moved the digit in deeper, drawing it back and then plunging it in again. 

Moans and groans filled the night air while Ian prepped Mickey, staying attached at the lips the whole time. He worked in another finger and started pumping in earnest, twisting and scissoring, making sure Mickey was ready to take him. Mickey focused on the pleasure; he needed to keep his mind on what was happening physically. He couldn't let his emotions overwhelm him. He couldn't let himself think about how the one thing he'd wanted, the one thing he'd never thought he'd have was finally coming to pass.

“Ready,” Mickey panted, not willing to wait any longer. Ian pulled his fingers out and Mickey leaned back to let Ian grab the lube and drizzle what was left onto his dick. Unable to help himself, Mickey grabbed onto Ian and stroked up and down his length a few times to ensure it was coated. Satisfied, he rose up and positioned Ian at his entrance, sinking down onto Ian’s cock, lifting up and dropping back down again and again until he was fully seated. They breathed into each other's open mouths the entire time, kissing occasionally when they were overcome with emotions and needed to be connected again. 

“Fuck,” Ian cursed as he let Mickey adjust to him. 

Their eyes met and suddenly Mickey felt the weight of years of hidden feelings come crashing down on him. Guilt surged within him and he wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. Everything could have been so different if only he'd said something, but it was too late to change it now. All he could do was make sure Ian knew he was loved, let himself be loved in return. He dipped down to kiss Ian again, cupping his cheek as he whispered, "I love you."

Ian's eyes darted all over Mickey's face, a smile forming as his eyes softened. "I love you, too." It had only been a few minutes since they last said them to each other, but Mickey didn't think he'd ever get tired of hearing those words from Ian. He tried shaking his maudlin interlude off and got back to the task at hand, nodding at Ian to let him know he was ready to go. Ian leaned back, propping himself up with one hand, while the other gripped Mickey’s hip. Mickey found Ian's hand that was clutching his side, laced their fingers together, and started rolling his hips deliberately, rocking back and forth, up and down, round in circles, wrecking Ian beneath him.

They were happy to keep the pace unhurried for a few minutes, murmuring words of love and affirmation in between kisses until Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped back and used both hands to hold onto Mickey, jack-hammering his hips up into Mickey’s ass.

“Oh shit,” Mickey cursed. “Keep doing that. Fuck, fuck.”

Ian’s mouth dropped open in concentration, drilling into Mickey as he fell forward onto his hands. Their pace became frantic as they both chased their orgasms. Mickey felt his approaching already and sat up, trying to help Ian find the right angle to hammer his prostate. Apparently a quick study, Ian soon located the spot Mickey needed and then wrapped a hand around Mickey’s dick, pumping in time with his thrusts.

“Gonna come,” Mickey warned Ian.

“Me too.”

Impossibly, Ian seemed to speed up and Mickey couldn’t hold out one more second. He came with a grunt, cum spurting out all over Ian’s stomach. He leaned over and braced himself while Ian fucked into him a few more times. As Ian’s orgasm hit him, he squeezed Mickey hard enough to leave bruises. Mickey couldn’t fucking wait to see the evidence Ian’s grip had left on his body. 

Mickey reached over for his shirt and quickly wiped his jizz off of Ian before collapsing on top of him. They laid there for a moment, content in the silence and each other as they tried to catch their breath. Mickey could feel Ian’s heart beating rapidly in his chest and he’d never felt more satisfied in his life.

Ian raised a hand to brush his fingers through Mickey’s hair then lifted himself up slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Mickey’s head. “C’mon, Mick. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they are idiots no more!!
> 
> Okay, so I know some of you might be looking at the tags and going, ~~"WHERE ARE THE TURTLES?!"~~ "WHERE ARE THEY?!" Well, you'll just have to come back for the final chapter for the goods, won't you? 😉


	4. No Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title for this chapter: Soft Boys Get Hard
> 
> I'm so sorry this took forever, but I told you at the start of this that I'm the slowest writer alive. Better late than never! You might have noticed a little rating change from M to E. So. Enjoy that. Also full disclosure: the opening scene was inspired by Isak and Even's soft bed scene from Skam (you know the one), so that's the vibe I hope you all get. 
> 
> I need to give one final heartfelt thank you to @wideblueskies. Your feedback has been invaluable <3 And special shout out to [Captain_Jowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Jowl/works?fandom_id=245573) for looking over the smut in this chapter. 
> 
> Without further ado, I present the final installment of Hollywood!

The blazing late afternoon sun shone brightly through the windows of Mickey’s house, creating a warm, hazy, almost ethereal atmosphere. It was the day after they’d both finally confessed their love for each other and then fucked under the stars like they were in a goddamn movie or something. Ian was rummaging around in the kitchen cabinets, naked as the day was long while Mickey was lounging around in bed waiting for his boyfriend (well, they hadn’t exactly had that conversation yet, but it felt like a foregone conclusion in Ian’s mind) to come back with some food to fuel them for their never-ending bang-a-thon.

Even though they’d barely left the bed all day, they still hadn’t properly slept. They had never anticipated they’d be together like this and they didn’t want it slipping through their fingers. It felt like a surreal moment in time that they didn’t want to waste, afraid they’d wake up and learn that it had all been a dream. So they’d stayed up all night talking and laughing, never really taking their hands off of each other, only managing to sleep for a few hours before Mickey woke Ian up with kisses that inevitably led to another round of fucking. 

Ian knew they’d crash hard later, but it’d been so worth it. 

“What the fuck is taking so long, man? I’m starving!” Ian heard Mickey yell.

He gathered an armful of snacks and water bottles in his hands and walked back to Mickey’s room. “Jesus, keep your pants on,” he chided as he sauntered back into the bedroom with his bounty. “Actually, on second thought, take them off. No clothes in bed, you know the rules, Milkovich.”

“You and your fuckin’ rules,” Mickey grumbled as he wrestled his way out of his boxer briefs.

“I wasn't even gone for five minutes and you’re already defying them.”

“One - these aren’t even clothes, it’s just underwear, and two - we’re not sleeping or banging, why do I gotta be naked?” Ian looked at him pointedly and Mickey relented with a roll of his eyes as he dropped his drawers dramatically. “Happy now?”

Ian deposited the food in the middle of the bed and nodded cheerfully. He crawled across the mattress to hover over Mickey, bending down to kiss him languidly before responding, “Very.” 

Afterwards, Ian attempted to roll away, but Mickey grabbed his ass to keep Ian on top of him so they could kiss some more. Mickey’s hands glided up his back and around his shoulders before settling on either side of his face. “Mm, never gonna get tired of that,” Mickey said as he stroked Ian’s cheek with his fingertips.

“Don’t want you to,” Ian replied easily after Mickey finally let him go. He reached out and grabbed a couple of bags of chips, tossing one to Mickey.

“Still a fuckin’ weirdo though, that hasn’t changed. I should be allowed to wear underwear.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey replied softly, Ian smiling just as softly in return.

They ate in silence, smiles never leaving their faces, occasionally throwing pieces of food at one another before remembering it probably wasn’t the best idea, given crumbs in the bed weren’t exactly conducive to sex, especially since they had planned on fooling around many more times before the day was over. 

They tossed the empty bags in the trash by the bed once they’d finished, brushed away any food remnants, and then Ian grabbed Mickey, manhandling him to lay down so they were facing each other on a single pillow as close as they could be. Close enough to kiss whenever they wanted, which was often. 

Ian reached down for the comforter to cover their lower halves and they settled in, sighing contentedly. Ian was still amazed this was all happening; it didn’t feel real, being able to do things like this with Mickey. They’d been just friends for so long and he’d been dreaming of being with Mickey for as far back as he could remember. But after years of denying himself, he found he couldn’t refrain from touching Mickey, couldn’t hold back the urges to kiss and caress him all over. Luckily, Mickey seemed to feel the same.

Ian tucked his left hand underneath his head and buried the fingers of his right in Mickey’s hair. He scratched Mickey’s scalp lightly and Mickey closed his eyes, humming in appreciation.

“This is weird, right?” Ian asked and after seeing Mickey’s eyes fly open and face cloud with worry, he quickly followed it up with, “I mean, it’s weird that it’s _not_ weird. Like, it just feels so natural, being with you like this.”

Mickey breathed a sigh of relief but rolled his eyes affectionately. “Yeah man, it feels...right.”

Ian knew he should be savoring the moment, but he couldn’t help but dwell on the past. He was getting lost in thought, but now, instead of keeping everything to himself, he could share it all with Mickey. 

“Do you remember the day we met?” Ian asked, wrapped up in nostalgia.

“Why?” Mickey had his eyes closed again, enjoying the head massage Ian was all too happy to provide.

“Pretty sure that’s when I fell for you.”

Mickey opened one eye to glare half-heartedly at him. “Bull shit.”

“No, it’s true, I’ve been trying to think when it all started for me and I think it was then.”

Both eyes open now, Mickey searched his face for any sign he was joking. “You serious?”

Ian nodded. “I remember seein’ you at auditions and thinking how hot you were.”

“Obviously,” Mickey interjected, smirking.

Ian huffed good-naturedly but continued, “So I worked up the nerve and asked you what part you were going out for and you told me never to talk to you again or you’d stab me.” 

“Fuck off, I didn’t say that!”

“You did, and it was love at first threat.”

“You’re such an asshole, I didn’t threaten to stab you,” Mickey laughed.

“That’s how I remember it.”

“I told you to fuck off ‘cause I thought you were my competition, I never said nothin’ ‘bout stabbing you.”

“Oh so you _do_ remember the first time we met, huh?” Ian grinned, shaking Mickey’s head with the hand still attached to it.

“Whatever. Knew you’d probably lie about it someday and guess what? I was fuckin’ right, so.”

“Bet you had a little crush on me, too, didn’t ya?”

Mickey shook his head as he drew his lower lip into his mouth with his front teeth but didn’t deny it, so Ian took it as a win. 

“Still can’t believe I went four whole years without Terry ever finding out I was in all the plays and shit.”

“You havin’ a standing date with detention every day, though? I believe that,” Ian joked, smiling wickedly.

Mickey raised his hand as if to smack Ian and Ian leaned forward quickly to give him a kiss instead. They laughed as they pulled apart and settled back into the bed absently touching each other. Mickey was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Was that really when you knew?”

“Mmhmm. You were hot and you could act. I wanted to suck your dick so badly, but I thought there was no way in hell you were gay so I settled for being your friend. Never thought in a million years I’d actually get to do the naughty shit, too.”

“Happy to help you achieve that dream.” Mickey grinned before his smile slowly faded. He chewed his lip again, seemingly debating if he wanted to say more. Ian wouldn’t judge him, he never did, Mickey knew that, but Ian supposed after years of holding back, Mickey wouldn’t be able to just flip the switch and start sharing everything with ease. 

Ian bumped their noses together and in a bid to let Mickey know he didn’t have to hide behind his walls anymore he said, “What? You can tell me anything, ya know. No judgment.”

Mickey searched his face and Ian knew he was working up the courage to speak. “When did you know it was more? That you... you know?”

“That I loved you?” Ian shrugged when Mickey nodded and he resumed playing with Mickey’s hair. “Don’t think it was like, one moment where I knew. It was like this crush that never went away, and the more we hung out the deeper my feelings got. I wanted to know everything about you, I always wanted to be around you. I was crazy about you. Still am.”

“After all this time? You never… any of your boyfriends?” Mickey’s nerves were clear in his voice and Ian’s heart broke just a little at how unsure Mickey sounded.

Ian sighed and slid his hand down Mickey’s side to grip his waist, his thumb stroking Mickey’s skin idly. “Never worked out with them _because_ I love you. Most of the time they could tell something was up, that I was in love with someone else. Some of them actually realized it was you. Not _you_ you, but they knew it was my best friend. James did. Whenever we talked, he’d always pick a fight with me about it.”

“He was a shithead, anyway.” Mickey sniffed, trying to keep his tone casual. 

Ian nodded, smiling at Mickey’s blatant jealousy. At least they had that in common. “When’d you know?”

“Know what?” Mickey asked, being intentionally obtuse. Ian couldn’t even be mad at the little shit. As long as he wasn’t upset, Mickey could be a dick all he wanted. Ian actually kind of liked it.

“That you liked me, asshole.”

“It’s stupid,” Mickey said dismissively.

“Bet it’s not,” Ian said nuzzling their noses together again before kissing Mickey sweetly. ”Even if it is, still wanna know.”

Mickey appeared to be working himself up, sighing before he spoke. “I thought you were cute too, or whatever,” he started, trying to downplay the clear crush he’d had back then. Ian graciously stayed quiet and let Mickey continue. “It was the first couple weeks of rehearsals that first year and Terry needed me for a run. I had to miss a couple days of school for it and I remember when I got back you were real worried ‘bout me. Kept hounding me to make sure I was okay.” Mickey’s eyes dropped and he shrugged. “I dunno, no one had really given a shit about whether I turned up somewhere before besides teachers. Felt good knowing someone cared. Didn’t want you to ever stop.” Mickey found his confidence and raised his eyes to meet Ian’s. “It was the first time I ever thought about a guy like that, fucked me up for a while. Tried real fuckin’ hard to stop.”

“Didn’t work, though,” Ian said, shaking his head.

Mickey nodded. “Yeah, didn’t work. Only got worse.” As if sensing Ian’s line of thinking he spoke up again. “And when I got out here and my manager told me it’d work better if I wasn’t out, I just never really bothered lookin’ for somethin’.” His gaze was strong, voice unwavering when he continued, “Knew I’d never feel the same way about anybody like I felt for you, so…”

Ian was quiet for a moment, face pensive as he stroked Mickey’s side. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, trying to hold back the tears he knew were building. He thought of all those years they could have been doing this, could have been happy, together. “I was so in love with you. How did you not know I was totally in love with you? After I came out to you, you could’ve said something.”

“Didn’t wanna see it. I was afraid of fuckin’ everything. As scared as I was you wouldn’t like me back, it would’ve been worse if you did.” Ian didn’t respond, he just pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in question. “C’mon. We were stupid and reckless back then. Probably would’ve been bangin’ all the time.”

“Is that so?”

“Fuck you, you know I’m right. We haven’t stopped bangin’ since last night, man.”

“So what?”

“ _So_ , eventually my dad woulda caught us, or someone else who could’ve told him, and I don’t even wanna think about what could’ve happened then.” Mickey paused. He reached out his left hand to link it with Ian’s right, tangling their fingers together and squeezing. “I’d do anything for you, Ian, you gotta know that by now. I would’ve stood up to my dad, picked you over everything. Nothin’ but pain woulda followed that, man.”

Ian took the hand linked with Mickey’s and wrapped it around to his back as he tangled his legs with Mickey’s, bringing them even closer together. He tipped his chin a little, asking for a kiss and Mickey gave him one. “You’re right,” he said gently. “We would have fucked constantly.”

Mickey laughed and pushed at Ian’s shoulder with his free hand before they came together for a series of chaste kisses. Lest they descended into further debauchery, Mickey had enough sense to pull back. “So what’re we gonna do?”

“What do you mean?” Ian asked.

“‘Bout us? After you’re done with the show this summer, don’t you gotta go back to New York?”

“Why would I do that?” Ian’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“That’s where your life is, man. You can’t just pick up and leave everything behind.”

“What exactly am I leaving behind?”

“Your apartment, your friends...”

“I’ll make new friends, get a new place out here.” Mickey still looked apprehensive and Ian huffed a laugh, not sure how Mickey just wasn’t getting it. He cupped Mickey’s face and promised, “I don’t care about any of that shit. I only moved out there in the first place to stop thinking about you. But now I just... I wanna be where you are, Mickey.”

Mickey melted at this confession and crashed their lips together, pouring all of his feelings into the kiss. When they parted, he smirked and asked, “So, you’re movin’ in for good, then? Not even gonna ask me if you can stay?”

“Fuck off, you’re never gettin’ rid of me.”

“I think I could live with that.”

“Good.” Ian rolled over onto Mickey, pinning him to the mattress, grinding down against Mickey’s hips. “Wanna go again?”

Mickey smiled, his eyes crinkling and Ian vowed to do everything in his power to keep Mickey smiling like that for as long as he lived. “Absolutely.”

Ian grinned and kissed Mickey senseless as they worked themselves up to yet another round. Ian knew he’d regret not getting enough sleep when he walked onto set the next day, but at that moment with Mickey underneath and everything he ever wanted laid out in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit.

*

A few weeks later, Ian and Mickey were relaxing on the couch in their living room, Ian tucked into the corner with Mickey nestled in between his legs, wearing nothing but their boxers. Mickey was studying a script while Ian was trying to follow along and let Mickey get some reading done, but his very presence was too intoxicating for Ian to just let Mickey be.

Everything was still so fresh and new and _perfect_ between them. After that first night, they’d decided when they were out in public they wouldn’t hide who they were to each other, even with the possibility of paparazzi tracking them down. They weren’t gonna make a fuckin’ announcement or anything like that — not yet, anyway, but Ian wanted to be able to act on every impulse he’d had to suppress since he was a teenager and Mickey was just plain tired of hiding. They weren’t afraid of anything, not anymore. Not now that they had each other. 

But they were easing into public displays of affection since it was such a foreign concept for Mickey. He’d only ever had PR relationships with women where he’d avoided close contact as much as possible and fuckbuddy arrangements with guys behind closed doors, so it wasn’t something he was used to. Slowly, but surely, Mickey was opening himself up to new experiences and Ian was more than happy to go at his pace. 

So, they just carried on like they normally did, fuck what anyone else thought. Except sometimes they’d stand a little bit closer than they used to (which was pretty fucking close in the first place — they’d both bemoaned their stupidity for ignoring why that was for so long.) Their hands would drag across one another’s arms or lower backs, constant soft lingering touches, no longer worried about how it’d look to be wrapped up in each other. When Ian was feeling bold and they weren’t somewhere too busy, he’d press a kiss to Mickey’s temple and delight in Mickey’s bashful grumbling; or Mickey would thread his fingers with Ian’s on the walk back to their place after dinner at night and Ian would try to contain his glee. Things that wouldn’t be a big deal for anyone else felt like monumental steps for them.

In private, though, since it was still early days in their relationship, they couldn’t get enough of each other; they were simply insatiable. They spent most of their free time exploring each other’s bodies, learning about the other in ways they never thought they would get to. Ian was determined, and very much looking forward to knowing every single inch of Mickey. What he liked, what he loved, what turned him inside out, and made him desperate for it.

There were already little hints of what he wanted Mickey to share with him — hitched breaths when Ian held his hands together above his head, subtle keening when Ian lavished praise on him — Ian knew where their sexual relationship was heading and he couldn’t fucking wait to discover everything about Mickey. There’d be time for all that later, though. Right now, what they were doing was enough. After wanting nothing else for years, it was more than enough. 

His mind on decidedly unsavory things and unable to contain himself anymore, Ian started to nuzzle Mickey’s neck, subtly inhaling and relishing in Mickey’s natural aroma. He nibbled on Mickey’s ear then dropped his head just a little to lick and suck at the space just below it, Mickey’s weak spot. 

“What’re you doin’?” Ian didn’t need to see Mickey’s face, he knew he was trying to hide a smile.

“I’m bored.” His words were muffled against Mickey’s skin, unwilling to detach his mouth just to speak. 

“And I’m s’posed to entertain you?”

“Mmhmm.” Ian increased the intensity of his ministrations and was rewarded with Mickey’s breath getting heavier.

“I’m working.”

“You read too slow,” Ian reasoned.

“Not just reading, asshole. Trying to understand the character’s motivations, how I’d play the scene. The fuck do you do when you read a script?”

“Same thing.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone. Read with me or don’t.” Mickey made a show of centering his booklet in front of his face, trying to ignore Ian’s seduction attempt.

“Don’t mind me, then,” Ian drawled as his hand caressed Mickey’s stomach, his abs contracting under Ian’s touch as he mouthed and nosed all along Mickey’s neck. With his other hand, he rubbed up and down Mickey’s thigh, bunching his hand in the fabric of Mickey’s boxers, bringing them lower and lower with each pass. The hand on Mickey’s stomach traveled up his chest, roaming his torso, letting Ian savor the hard muscles underneath soft skin. 

Ian smiled against the back of Mickey’s neck as he flicked Mickey’s nipple and despite being still before, Mickey went even more rigid in Ian’s arms, a barely audible gasp escaping Mickey’s lips. 

“C’mon, man. I gotta get this done,” Mickey protested weakly.

“Not stopping ya.” Ian peeked at Mickey’s face and saw him biting down hard on his lower lip. The hand on Mickey’s thigh moved over to his lower stomach, holding him in place as light flicking with just a thumb got rougher, harder.

“Ian…” Mickey tried to sound like he was giving Ian a warning but Ian knew better. Mickey was subtly wiggling his ass and licking his lips, so Ian figured his teasing was starting to get to Mickey. He smirked, deciding to double down on his efforts.

“Keep reading, Mick,” Ian purred in Mickey’s ear, sending a shiver down Mickey’s spine. Ian rolled Mickey’s nipple in between his thumb and index finger, pinching, then back to flicking, back and forth, over and over, again and again. 

On a particularly hard pinch, Mickey dropped all pretense of being disinterested as his script fell to the side and he gripped Ian’s legs with both hands and whispered, “Fuck.”

He knew he was torturing Mickey and all Ian wanted to do was bend him over the side of the couch to fuck him good and hard, like he knew Mickey liked it, but it was always better when they worked each other up beforehand, so he soldiered on. 

The hand not occupied with abusing Mickey’s nipple slipped down to Mickey’s boxers, rubbing his cock through the thin material and Mickey couldn’t hold back any longer, releasing a sinful moan that went straight to Ian’s dick. He quickly reached between them to adjust himself so his hard-on wouldn’t get trapped in an uncomfortable position before he maneuvered Mickey to slot his length as best as he could between Mickey’s cheeks. 

He gave an experimental roll of his hips and Mickey’s head fell back onto Ian’s chest, panting as Ian continued his assault of Mickey’s dick over his boxers, tweaking Mickey’s nipples, switching to the other one so it wasn’t neglected, and humping him all the while. 

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you dick.” There was no heat in Mickey’s words, just a hint of desperation.

Mickey was fucking squirming against him and as much as Ian loved it when Mickey pushed, fought back, and gave as good as he got, Ian thought he liked this Mickey the most. Unabashed, uninhibited, unafraid to show Ian exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. It was so fucking good; Ian couldn’t see himself ever getting sick of it. 

“Want you,” Ian breathed, thrusting harder against Mickey’s ass. All Mickey could muster was a nod, too flustered at this point to speak any more.

Mickey whined when Ian removed the hand that was playing with his nipples, but Ian used it to grab his chin, craning Mickey’s neck to kiss him, swallowing the sound before Mickey could get it out fully. The kiss was all tongue, greedy and sloppy, as Mickey rocked up into Ian’s hand and back onto his dick, lost in the dual sensation. 

After a while, it must have gotten too much because Mickey wrenched himself away, turning quickly on the couch. With practiced ease, he tugged at Ian’s boxers, pulling them down roughly and throwing them away before resetting himself between Ian’s legs.

Ian didn’t even have a moment to think before his cock was in Mickey’s mouth, hips bucking involuntarily at the surprise. Mickey pulled off, grinning, and replaced his mouth with his hand for a moment so he could scold Ian. “Can’t even have five fuckin’ minutes to work without you riling me up.”

Ian huffed out a laugh as they stared at each other with heavy-lidded eyes. Ian reached down and rubbed his thumb across Mickey’s puffy lips, his eyes falling closed as he sucked Ian’s thumb into his mouth.

“So fuckin’ sexy, Mick,” Ian praised. 

Mickey groaned with his mouth full and Ian’s dick tingled with anticipation. He slipped his thumb out from between Mickey’s lips and cupped his cheek, guiding Mickey back to his dick. Their eyes stayed locked as Mickey swallowed Ian hungrily, gripping the base and pumping to make up for what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. 

He pulled back to tongue at the tip, lapping up a drop of precum at the slit then swirling around the head before taking Ian in again, enthusiastically bobbing up and down, alternating his technique so Ian never knew what he’d do next. Mickey loved sucking his dick and that turned Ian on even more, so he tried to still his hips and let Mickey suck him off however he wanted. Ian grabbed onto Mickey’s head, digging fingers into dark tresses to help guide him, whispering sweet words of encouragement that he knew drove Mickey crazy. 

With one hand on the back of the couch for support, Mickey found Ian’s balls with the other, rolling and playing with them, occasionally pressing his palm hard against the perineum, rubbing fingertips against the sensitive area before moving his hand back to the shaft, matching the rhythm his mouth set. Mickey’s eyes were closed, lost in the pleasure of having his boyfriend at his mercy. He moaned around Ian’s dick, the vibrations driving Ian wild. 

When Ian couldn’t control his hips lifting up and fucking into Mickey’s mouth, he knew he had to do something to prolong the pleasure. “Up, up,” Ian commanded frantically as he gripped Mickey’s shoulders, pressed their lips together in a searing kiss, and turned him around, ripping off Mickey’s boxers unceremoniously. He pushed Mickey down with a hand on his neck and Mickey braced himself against the side of the couch, chuckling at Ian’s manhandling. 

“Fuck, this ass,” Ian groaned appreciatively as he took in the sight of Mickey’s pale, perfectly round butt, up in the air, ready for Ian to do whatever he wanted to it. He smacked a cheek, grabbing some flesh and squeezing.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping,” Mickey replied with a cocky grin. Ian leaned down and bit the cheek he’d slapped in retaliation before dropping down to spread Mickey’s ass and lick slowly up his crack. After a long, hard stripe Mickey slammed a fist down on the armrest and punched out a breathy “Fuck.” 

He swirled his tongue around the hole, circling the rim with expertise. With a lick of his lips, Mickey reached back to hold onto Ian’s head, keeping him where he wanted him as Ian kitten-licked Mickey’s hole, reveling in the taste that was distinctly Mickey. Ian had always loved the way Mickey smelled and he was pleased to discover everything about Mickey also tasted so fuckin’ good for some reason — his lips, his dick, his cum, even his ass; Ian couldn’t get enough. 

Ian got a firm grip on both cheeks to keep them apart and buried his face in Mickey’s ass to dip his tongue into Mickey’s tight hole, jabbing in and out rapidly. He switched it up and returned to lavish his attention on the rim only to go back and fuck Mickey with his tongue again. After a few minutes of torment, Ian reached down to tug Mickey’s dick roughly, and all Mickey could do was babble nonsense in between his moans. 

Finding his voice again, Mickey begged, “Fuck. Just get the fuck in me, Ian. C’mon.”

Ian sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned over Mickey’s back and whispered into his ear, “Never thought I’d see the day where you’d be begging for my cock, Mick.”

Mickey groaned in response, pushing his ass back to get closer to Ian’s dick.

Ian chuckled at Mickey’s wanton display as he rooted around on the coffee table looking for lube. Once he found it he coated a couple of fingers before drizzling it all over his dick, pumping his length to get it covered. “You still good from earlier?” he asked as he stuck two fingers in at once to check, giving Mickey’s hole a cursory stretch. Between their morning fuck and Ian’s rim job, Mickey should be plenty ready. Mickey nodded as he moaned and circled his hips at the feeling of being breached. “Yeah, you’re good.”

It was a powerful, heady feeling that he could make Mickey feel like this. Reduce him to a whimpering, writhing mess, pleading for Ian to fill him up and fuck him good.

Ian bit down on his lip as he braced one hand on Mickey’s hip, the other helping to line himself up with Mickey’s hole. He touched the tip to Mickey’s entrance teasingly, smiling at the impatient sounds coming from the man beneath him. He didn’t waste another moment after that, though, pushing into Mickey in one excruciatingly slow motion until he was buried to the hilt. He knew his mouth was hanging open but he didn’t fucking care. All he cared about was the sight of his dick being enveloped by Mickey’s tight hole, the noises Mickey was making, the feel of Mickey around him. 

Ian rocked in and out, both of them moaning from the sensation. Ian picked up the pace, snapping his hips faster as he gripped Mickey’s hips with his hands, bringing him back on his dick harder and harder each time.

Ian pulled out deliberately, slamming back into Mickey’s ass so forcefully he almost lost his hold on the armrest.

‘Fuck, Ian. Not gonna last.”

“Touch yourself,” Ian demanded as he shifted the angle he was fucking into Mickey to hit his prostate, determined to finish him off quickly. Ian’s thrusts were unrelenting as he felt the familiar feeling building, first in his dick and then spreading up into his groin, so fucking intense. He needed Mickey to come.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Mickey chanted as his hand sped up, jerking his cock in a frenzy. He clutched the sofa as he finally came with a grunt and Ian let himself go, pumping in and out until he was sure he was spent.

Breathing heavy, he pulled out and Mickey turned, collapsing back on the cushions, uncaring about the cum dripping out of him or that he was now laying in what he’d already spilled onto the sofa. He waved frantically for Ian to come closer for a kiss and Ian was more than happy to oblige. He dropped down over Mickey, holding his hands on either side of Mickey’s head as they sealed the end of the session with a passionate kiss. 

“Holy shit, I think I’m fuckin’ deaf,” Mickey complained, bringing a hand up to his ear canal and rubbing vigorously to try to bring back his hearing when Ian sat back and began looking for their underwear and something to help clean them up.

Ian grinned. “That good, huh?” Ian had only temporarily lost his hearing a few times after an intense orgasm and he couldn’t help but feel proud he was able to make that happen for Mickey. He retrieved a hand towel from the kitchen and their boxers off the floor, stepped into his own pair, and chucked Mickey’s and the towel at his head.

“Fuck off,” Mickey replied, smiling hard as he caught the boxers and started to redress before wiping down the couch halfheartedly. “Okay, now I’m hearing ringing.”

“It’s your phone, dumbass,” Ian laughed. He reached for Mickey’s cell on the coffee table and threw it to him.

“Fuck.” Mickey sat up as he looked at his phone seeing a screen full of missed calls and texts. “Tony, Marissa, _and_ Vicky all called me like fifty times each. How did we not hear my phone blowing up when we were bangin’?”

“Agent, publicist, and your manager? That’s a full-court press. Fuck did you do?”

“Fuckin’ Mandy and Sandy, texted too. I don’t wanna open ‘em. Check to see if Mandy texted you, too.”

Ian grabbed his phone and frowned down at it, discovering he did, in fact, have a ton of notifications, as well. “Shit, I’ve got messages from everyone in my family. Missed calls from Lip and Mandy, too.”

“What the fuck did _you_ do?”

They looked at each other and realized at the same time what was going on. “Fuckin’ paparazzi,” they exclaimed in unison.

“Why isn’t your team calling you, too?” Mickey asked, annoyed. 

“Unless I’ve hotwired heavy machinery, they usually leave me alone,” Ian shrugged and chuckled after Mickey flipped him off.

“Jesus Christ, don’t these assholes have anything better to do than follow us around all the goddamn time?”

“That’s their job.”

“They need to get better fuckin’ jobs then.”

“We should check to see what they got,” Ian reasoned. “Maybe everyone’s overreacting?”

Ian bravely typed their names into his search engine and held his breath. 

“Well,” he tilted his head, considering. “They’re not as innocent as the first time.”

In fact, they were significantly more compromising, each photo in the series showing an increase in intimacy until they reached the final one that really left no room for interpretation. Once again, they were caught walking down the street, this time at dusk, so they must have felt safe in the twilight despite not being shrouded in total darkness. They were roughhousing playfully, smiles plastered on their faces, as Ian apparently got the upper hand and walked Mickey back against the wall of a nearby building, keeping Mickey’s hands tucked to his side. Their foreheads pressed together for a few snaps then Ian had pulled back just slightly, looking at Mickey like he was the sun, the moon, and all the stars in the sky, Mickey’s eyes sparkling as they stared right back at Ian. They looked like a couple in love.

There was a blurb accompanying the photoset, but Ian didn’t get to read it. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

“Fuck, lemme see.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand to bring the phone closer for a better look. “When the fuck was this?”

“When we got Chinese the other night, I think.”

“Damn Gallagher, I must’ve been fuckin’ blind if that’s how you’ve always been lookin’ at me.” Mickey bumped Ian’s shoulder and Ian rolled his eyes but bumped Mickey back.

“You don’t look like you’re exactly miserable yourself, Mick.”

Mickey used the hand already gripping Ian’s and dragged him onto the couch. He only waited a moment before he climbed into Ian’s lap. “Happiest I’ve ever been in my fuckin’ life, Ian.” Mickey kissed him then as if trying to prove it, as if Ian didn’t already know.

“Who’re you gonna call back?” Ian sighed against Mickey’s lips, resting his hands on Mickey’s ass.

“Marissa. She won’t give me shit and she’ll be able to run interference with Tony and Vicky.”

“Guess I should answer these messages, then,” Ian groaned as he reached out for his phone, but before he could grab it, Mickey stopped him with a hand over Ian’s.

“Wait, just... I want you on the call, okay?”

Ian nodded, his heart swelling knowing Mickey wanted to lean on him for what was sure to be a difficult discussion. Mickey picked up his cell, dialed his publicist, and put the call on speakerphone.

“Look who’s returned to the land of the living,” Marissa greeted. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding my calls intentionally. That’s not what you were doing, right, Mickey?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Hi Mickey, how are you doing, Mickey?” he snarked back and Ian snorted at Mickey’s theatrics. “Oh, I’m great Marissa, fuckin’ paps got a hard-on for me and Ian apparently lately, other than that, I’m fuckin’ fantastic.”

They heard Marissa sigh on the other end of the line. “Alright, take the sarcasm down a notch, kid. I’m sorry, but you’re really making me work for my paycheck with this one.”

“That’s a first.”

“I’m serious. Tony’s having a conniption about this.”

“Fuck Tony.”

“Seems like you’re fucking Ian, actually.”

Ian and Mickey broke out into matching grins. “Oh, she’s got jokes!” Mickey sassed.

“Seriously, though, Mickey. Do you know how bad this looks?”

Ian could tell Mickey was steeling himself. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Well you should,” Marissa insisted. “We need to start damage control ASAP if we want to contain this—”

“No. No damage control. Not this time. I’m done.”

Marissa was quiet for some time before she asked apprehensively, “What are you saying?”

“You know that appearance I got on Donahue comin’ up?” He held Ian’s gaze and took a deep breath before he dropped the bomb. “I wanna come out.”

***

Mickey was pacing in the green room backstage before his upcoming interview. He was nervous, scared, excited — every emotion in the fucking book, he was feeling it. 

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Mickey spun around and felt like he was finally able to breathe for the first time since he’d entered the studio that day. Ian had finally arrived and Mickey had never been happier to see him. His face was a mixture of amusement and concern, two sentiments he’d never seen together before but that was exactly how he’d describe the way Ian was looking at him just then.

“C’mere,” he mumbled as they gravitated toward each other. Mickey gripped Ian’s t-shirt in his hands as they collided, lips gliding together, intensity picking up as they got lost in each other. Mickey attempted to ground himself with Ian’s kisses, gaining courage and strength from Ian by osmosis. 

“You know you don’t have to do this, Mick.” Ian cupped his head, thumbs stroking his cheek.

Mickey exhaled heavily. “I know, but I want to. Doin’ it for us. I wanna be able to do _this_ —” he kissed Ian again briefly “—without worrying about who’s watching or what could happen. If assholes don’t wanna hire me anymore, fuck ‘em. I love you. And I wanna be happy.”

“I love you, too, but I told you, I don’t need to be public,” Ian said shaking his head. “I don’t give a shit about anyone else. All I want is you. You’re all I _ever_ wanted and I don’t care if you’re out,” he promised. “We can keep it PG outside of the house, I won’t care.”

Mickey scoffed. “Yeah right, you’re a horny motherfucker, you know how hard it is making sure you keep your hands to yourself?”

“Fuck you,” Ian retorted as he slid his hands down Mickey’s chest, proving Mickey’s point that he did indeed have a problem keeping his hands to himself.

A knock on the door interrupted them and a young woman with a headset and a clipboard popped her head into the room once given the all-clear. “Excuse me, Mr. Milkovich. We’re ready for you.”

Mickey nodded and told her he’d be out in a minute. 

“Ready to face the wolves?”

Mickey took another deep breath; he felt like all he’d been doing lately was taking deep breaths. “As long as you’re with me, I feel like I can do anything.”

Ian’s lips quirked up into a crooked grin. “That was some corny ass shit, Mick.”

“What can I say? You’re rubbin’ off on me.”

Ian’s eyes lit up, his lopsided smile filling out, and Mickey knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

“Mmm, I’ve definitely enjoyed rubbing off on you.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m leaving.”

Ian kissed him one last time, making his knees weak but his resolve strong. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

*

Mickey heard his name announced and the production assistant gave him the go-ahead signal before he walked onto the _Late Night With Jimmy Donahue_ stage to upbeat music from the band and rowdy applause from the crowd. He gave them a little wave then shook the host’s hand and settled into the couch next to the desk, trying to keep his cool.

“Hey, thanks for being here, Mickey,” Jimmy greeted.

“Thanks for having me.” He flashed the audience a dazzling smile as he adjusted his blazer, laying the charm on thick.

“You know, I gotta tell you, you’ve been amazing this year on _Knights of the Round Table_. It’s such a great show, my wife and I watch it every week. We’re big fans.”

“Ah, thanks, man. It’s a fun show to be on, I love my character. He’s a real complicated guy but he’s just trying to do the right thing most of the time, ya know?”

“Any spoilers you can share with us? The finale’s coming up and I think I speak for all of us when I say we can’t wait to find out how the big battle goes, but we don’t want to wait until next year for more!”

Mickey laughed. “No spoilers — if I told ya, I’d have to kill ya — but speaking of the battle…” Mickey went on to tell a behind the scenes story from filming and they continued a little back and forth conversation about the show and what he had planned next. The banter with Donahue came easily to Mickey and he was happy to be temporarily distracted from what he was about to do. Jimmy had been briefed on the announcement Mickey was planning and he checked in with Mickey when he arrived, ensuring that he was ready for the big reveal and thanking him for choosing his show to do it. They’d always gotten along well in the past so Mickey felt like he’d made the right decision picking this particular late-night show. 

Jimmy caught his eye and he braced himself for the possibility that his whole life was about to change, mostly for good, but maybe just a little bit for the worse.

“You’ve created a bit of a stir in the tabloids recently, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” Mickey nodded.

Jimmy sorted through the notecards on his desk and produced one of the tamer paparazzi shots from the recent exposé, eliciting a round of “oohs” from the audience.

“This is you and Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey leaned forward to look at the card like he didn’t know what was on it. “Yep, that’s us.”

“Pretty friendly,” Jimmy teased.

“Yeah, me and Ian go way back.” He settled back into the couch and spread his legs out, feigning nonchalance.

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other since high school. We were both involved in drama and stuff back then. Hit it off right away and you know, had a lot in common, stayed in touch after we left the south side but he’s my best friend, actually. Lucky to still have that relationship after all these years.”

“Wow, you guys have kept it under wraps pretty well.”

“Not like we were hiding anything really,” Mickey shrugged. “Just didn’t cross paths professionally but yeah, guess so.” He licked his lips, readying himself.

“You seem close.”

“We are.”

Mickey knew the segue was coming and he tried keeping his nerves in check. He reminded himself why he was doing this. 

For himself. For Ian. To finally be free.

Donahue wasn’t even attempting to hide a cheeky grin. “I’m sure you’ll tell me to ‘eff off’ if you don’t want to answer this but, uh I guess the million-dollar question is: are you guys just friends? Or are you together?”

He’d felt lighter ever since he and Ian got started up and he knew this was the final step. Mickey pictured the kind of life he’d soon be able to live once the secret was out.

No more worrying about roles drying up or about what people might think. No more hiding. No more fear. 

“Together.”

As cheesy as it was, the crowd erupted in hoots, hollers, claps, and whistles and Mickey couldn’t hide his grin even if he tried. He just hoped the heat he felt rushing to his cheeks wouldn’t be too obvious on camera. He wasn’t sure what kind of reception he would get, but he never expected that.

Jimmy patted his back “Well, congrats, man. I’m secure enough to admit that Ian Gallagher is a total hottie, so good for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s a pain in my ass, too.”

“I hope not literally,” Jimmy zinged and the audience erupted in laughter. Mickey chuckled himself, knowing he walked right into that one. “And on that note, we gotta take a break, but we’ll be right back with a performance from our musical guest, Red Zone. See ya after the commercial break!”

*

It all happened in a blur after that. He hugged Donahue who gave him a heartfelt thanks and wished him well before he made his way backstage. He saw Ian waiting in the wings and made a beeline for him. 

“You were great, Mick,” Ian assured him as he enveloped Mickey in a big hug. Mickey held on tightly, soaking up all of Ian’s love and admiration. 

“Scariest shit I ever did,” Mickey laughed.

“No regrets?”

“Nah, man. No regrets.”

“You know,” Ian started, playing with Mickey’s collar as he dragged him back into a secluded corner for privacy. “If we were in a movie, this is the part where the music would start to swell, the camera would pan out, and we’d kiss until the credits rolled. Happily ever after, right?”

“This ain’t a movie, man,” he said shaking his head. 

“Nah, but I kinda feel like I got my Hollywood ending anyway.” 

“I fuckin’ hate you,” Mickey admonished, shaking his head at Ian again.

“I know, I love you, too.” He swooped in to capture Mickey’s lips with his. Hands drifted to each other’s faces as the lights went down and the music from the band kicked in. Mickey hated to admit it, but it did kind of feel like an ending in one of those rom-com movies.

And despite Mickey’s protests, against all odds, they did, in fact, live happily ever after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my little fic. Please let me know what you think 💜
> 
> Oh, in case you were curious the chapter titles are indeed songs because that's my brand, apparently:  
> 1 - Lewis Capaldi - Hollywood  
> 2 - Lewis Capaldi - Maybe  
> 3 - Ed Sheeran feat. Khalid - Beautiful People  
> 4 - Niall Horan - No Judgment
> 
> Oh, and follow me on [Tumblr](https://whaticameherefor.tumblr.com/)! I provide quality(ish) content and I'm always up in my Gallavich feels 🥰

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://whaticameherefor.tumblr.com/) and come talk about Ian and Mickey with me!


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